


I See the Moon

by kaylennz



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Angst, Daddy Dean, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, M/M, Original Character Death(s), Protective Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-11
Updated: 2013-05-11
Packaged: 2017-12-11 13:09:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 87,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/799092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaylennz/pseuds/kaylennz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam had known how Dean felt about him when he'd left for Stanford. His own feelings weren't so clear. He'd needed time away from it all, hunting, his father, and especially Dean. It took him five years and a degree he hadn't planned on to realize there was only one person he wanted to share his life with. He'd never considered the possibility that Dean would move on without him...or that something could happen that would erase him from his brother's life completely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sworn to Surveillance

**Author's Note:**

> The last of my SPN fics from LJ - this was my 2010 Big Bang and first Supernatural Fic.

“Come on, Sam. It's still early.”

Sam Winchester closed the rear door of the Camry and turned to face the slightly inebriated blonde   
who hung out of the window.

"We’ve only just begun to celebrate,” Jess slurred, tripping adorably over her words.

Sam smiled at her affectionately and kissed her cheek. “You never could handle your liquor.”   
Chuckling at her pout of indignation he added, “Lush.”

Jessica swatted at him playfully, missing him entirely. Sam looked to Dave, designated driver by virtue   
of a coin toss earlier in the evening, a very unfair and rigged coin toss the young man had bemoaned   
throughout the evening. Repeatedly. How do you rig a coin toss anyway? And why, oh why, did that   
thought bring forth, unbidden, an image of his older brother. Yeah, I wonder he thought with   
affection. 

His low-grade buzz and the emotional high of the day were making him nostalgic. Dipping his chin to   
Dave, the closest person to a best friend in his years at Stanford, he said, “Take care of her.”

Dave opened his mouth to respond when Jess gave a loud hiccup from the backseat. He tossed her an   
indulgent look over his shoulder and met Sam’s gaze. His voice was soft, serious. “You know I will.”

There was nothing more to say to that so Sam turned to leave. Jess grabbed his hand. Her expression   
was serious, her beautiful face glowing with the after-effects of one too many Singapore Slings. “Keep   
in touch, Sam. 

When he nodded but didn’t quite meet her gaze, she turned it into a command. “I mean it, Samuel   
Winchester.”

“Whoa, she’s pulling out the big guns now, man. First and last name proper, you’re in trouble now,   
Winchester,” Dave chuckled from the front seat.

Feeling a little indulgent himself, Sam looked her in the eye. Jess repeated herself and gave his hand a   
tug to reiterate her point. “I mean it.”

“I know.” It was an acknowledgment, not a promise, but it seemed to please her and she released his   
hand. He held it out to Dave waiting for the other man to shake it. “It’s been real, man.” 

“That it has, dude.” Dave held his gaze, searching. Close as they’d become over the years, there was a   
part of himself that Sam never shared. With anyone. Dave regarded him fondly, his look questioning   
whether or not he’d ever truly gotten to know the real Sam Winchester. It warmed Sam to realize that   
the man had given him his friendship regardless. “That it has.”

Never one for long drawn out goodbyes, Sam took a step back from the curb as a signal for Dave to   
depart. Taking the hint, Dave released the emergency break and shifted to first gear before speaking   
again.

“Hey man…be sure to…you know…” Sam arched a brow at Dave's pause, wondering what variation of   
Jess's words he would choose. Apparently unable to find anything appropriate, the man grinned and   
gave a backward nod to Jess. “What she said.”

“You got it.” 

Sam watched them drive away, Jessica’s long blonde tresses in wild disarray as she kept her place at   
the window – giving him a final wave as they rounded the corner and disappeared from sight. 

For a long moment, he just stood there. Lost. Then glancing at his watch, he sighed. At 1:00 am his   
options were few, but sleep was the last thing on his mind. He graduated today. From Stanford   
University. The thought brought an immediate smile to his face. All of his hard work and dedication   
had finally paid off. He was now free to begin the normal life that he had for so long craved. 

As fun and challenging as his college experience had been, Sam had always known that it was   
temporary. For five years, his life had been in academic limbo while he gained the knowledge and   
accreditation that he would need to make his mark in the real world. It would be an entirely different   
mark than he had originally set out to make, but one that he very much looked forward to exploring.   
Sam Winchester had gone to Stanford with the intention of getting a law degree. Instead he’d found   
his true calling in teaching and managed in five years to walk away with a master’s degree in Education.   
At this very moment he was qualified to teach the grade level of his choice in any school or university   
of his choice. 

He should have been happy. He was happy. Or he would have been if it didn’t feel as if something   
were missing. Or someone. Sam reminded himself that it had been his decision to cut off contact with   
his family. He’d needed a fresh start. He needed to be able to focus on his education without being   
pulled back into the world of hunting and all it entailed. 

And most of all, he’d needed to come to an understanding with his feelings for Dean.

He hadn’t told Dean straight out not to call or not to visit. Not in so many words. His silence and   
refusal to answer his cell phone the one and only time Dean had called apparently spoke volumes to   
his brother. He’d been at Stanford for less than a month when Dean called. Denying himself that   
contact - that chance to reconnect, refusing the likely reassurance his brother would no doubt give -   
had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done. Hard, but necessary. At least, that’s what he told   
himself. Besides, in the back of his mind he knew that Dean would always be there. Waiting. Sam just   
needed some space. Dean would call again. And maybe the next time, Sam would be ready to reopen   
that door. But as the one month blurred into another and semesters came and went, Sam began to   
question his decision.

Two years rolled by with no cards, no letters, and no calls. Sam couldn't help himself - he'd started to   
worry. It was all too easy to imagine any number of things that could have befallen his brother. Surely   
something had happened to prevent Dean from at least checking in on his little brother. 

Surprisingly, it was thoughts of John that calmed Sam and kept him from reaching out to Dean.   
Despite his last explosive confrontation with his father and the hurtful ultimatum that had been   
thrown down, Sam instinctively knew that John would never truly abandon him. In time, he had come   
to realize that his father had spoken more out of fear than anger. Fear that he would not be able to   
protect his boy unless he remained at his side. Fear of the unknown. Fear of losing control. Just fear.   
An enlightening revelation to say the least. One that had effectively cooled the last burning ember of   
resentment he’d held toward the man. Though it had been years since John had come right out and   
said the words, once Sam really thought about it, it was evident in a thousand little details over the   
course of his life that John Winchester loved his boys.

Sam knew that if anything had happened to Dean, his dad would have notified him. No. Dean was   
simply honoring Sam's wishes. The precedent that Sam himself had set when he'd refused to take   
Dean's first call, his only call. The reassurance of that conclusion both soothed and saddened him.   
Buzz fading and mood melancholy, Sam strolled slowly up the walk towards his apartment. The   
disappointment hadn’t really set in until now. While he’d not let himself go there in the days leading   
up to graduation, he could fully admit it to himself now; Sam had expected both John and Dean to   
show for the ceremony. With the exception of his first few weeks of adjustment to campus life, never   
had he so keenly longed for the familiarity of their presence. 

Five long years he had held Dean at arms length, without contact, so he could sort out his feelings.   
Meeting Jess had only confused and delayed the inevitable. For a time, Sam truly believed he was in   
love with Jessica - and he did, on so many levels, love her - but she was not the person he dreamt   
about. She was not the person Sam saw when he imagined his future. Jessica Moore was smart and   
beautiful and sexy as hell…but when it came right down to it only one thing mattered; she was not   
Dean. 

Sam had finally come to the realization that his brother was the only person that he could ever imagine   
giving himself to completely. And after five years of silence, Sam Winchester never, for one minute,   
doubted that Dean would be there, waiting for him to get his shit together, greeting him with a   
devilish, cocky smile and an understated, “It’s about time, bro.”

He was about to discover how very wrong he was.

It took a few minutes of standing alone in the dark just inside his door, to realize something was not   
quite right. Years of disuse and a night of ingesting various alcoholic beverages delayed instincts that   
he had honed since childhood. Frozen, his eyes scanned the dimly-lit living space, landing on the   
shadowed silhouette gazing out the window. 

“Who’s there?” Sam’s voice was even and deep - a command to respond. 

At ease in the darkness, the shadow turned. “Thought you were going to stand out there all night.”

Eyes widening at the familiar baritone, Sam reached for the switch on the wall, a soft yellow glow   
permeating the room as he spoke. "Dad?"

John's smile was genuine and full of quiet pride. "Son."

In his surprise, Sam hesitated before answering. A smile curved his lips and he strode forward to be   
engulfed in his dad’s tight embrace. He gripped the back of John's coat, smelling sea breeze and   
peppermint. Unprepared for the flood of warm pleasure he felt at the man’s sudden reappearance,   
Sam held on for far longer he would have considered appropriate at any other time. He felt justified   
when John seemed just as reluctant to part. 

When Sam finally did pull away, he ducked his head, aware that his slightly watery eyes clearly   
displayed his emotions. He took a moment to rein his emotions in before meeting John’s gaze. He   
needn’t have bothered; his father wore a similar emotive expression. Uncomfortable in such   
emotionally unfamiliar waters, they averted eye contact and separated. The silence stretched, not   
uncomfortably, until John spoke, his voice rough.

“Last time we spoke, you and I exchanged some pretty harsh words.”

“Yes, sir.” An echo of that long ago hurt remained. John saw it.

Placing a hand on Sam’s shoulder, John searched the familiar features of his son's face in obvious   
wonder at the maturity that five years apart had brought. He smiled again and slid a warm hand to the   
back of Sam's neck, squeezing gently.

“I’m proud of you, Sammy.”

It was an apology of sorts. Or as much of one as he’d ever heard from his father. He’d take it.   
“Thanks." Sam beamed shyly at his father’s unexpected words, and then tried to shake it off. “And   
it’s Sam.”

The corner of John’s mouth quirked, but he refused to comment on the dreaded nickname. Instead,   
Sam saw a glimmer of mischievousness in John's eye that was so reminiscent of Dean that it almost   
hurt. 

“Whatever you say,” John released him, “Professor.” He laughed outright at Sam’s expression.

Shaking his head, Sam realized he really wasn’t surprised. Of course John would keep tabs on him. In   
fact, his dad probably knew a lot more about his years at Stanford than Sam wanted him to. They   
moved to the sofa and Sam grabbed a couple of beers out of the refrigerator. John seemed   
legitimately interested in Sam’s change of major so he took the time to discuss how it had all come   
about. In the back of his mind, Sam wondered if John was as relieved as he that they would never   
meet in opposite sides of the law. Unlikely as that was, it would just be awkward. John and Dean   
were just too damn good at what they did to get caught, but Sam earning himself a Law Degree would   
have drawn a clearly defined line between them that may have separated the family forever. Sam   
was perfectly aware of this when considering both his future with and his feelings for his brother. In   
the end, he'd done the only thing he really could; he had followed his heart.

It felt strangely liberating to talk to John about his time at Stanford. There was an odd sense of closure   
that he hadn’t expected, but that was more than welcome. It did not, however, go unnoticed that the   
conversation was deliberately one-sided. John revealed nothing of what the past five years had held   
for him. Or for Dean. It was starting to get to Sam. He appreciated the consideration in regard to the   
hunt, but he wanted information on his brother. Badly. 

Ten more minutes of shootin' the shit and Sam could stand it no longer. Legitimately happy to see his   
father, he’d let the man tip-toe around the issue, but enough was enough. John sensed the shift in   
his son and met Sam's gaze steadily.

“Where is he, Dad? Where’s Dean?”

John just looked at him long and hard. Gauging. Assessing. Resigned. “Took you longer to ask that   
than I thought it would.” If Sam had any doubts that John was unaware of the non-brotherly feelings   
that his sons shared for one another, his father’s tone of voice and knowing gaze dispelled that notion.   
Oh, he knew. It was clear that John was both confused and conflicted by this aspect of his sons’   
relationship, perhaps even hoping that time and distance had all but resolved any inappropriate   
feelings. He had no way of knowing that for Sam, it had only served to solidify his love for Dean.

Sam smiled, but it held no humor. “I was being polite.” His tone indicated that he was nearly done   
being so. He wanted an answer. Now. 

In the intervening silence, Sam truly began to worry. “Dad?” 

John sighed and stood, walking to the window, his back to his son. Sam waited. He waited for so long   
that he feared John would not answer. That fear was the only thing that kept his impatience at bay.   
Another sigh before John spoke, the disapproval of moments before stripped from his voice. 

“I haven’t spoken to your brother in nearly five years.”

Sam blinked. Surely he hadn't heard correctly. Whatever he’d been expecting, that wasn’t it. He   
stared at John, willing him to turn around to explain, unable to find his voice and command him to do   
so. After a moment, John turned, perhaps sensing the weight of Sam’s stare. There was steady   
resolve in both that gaze and the voice that finally spoke.

“Dean has a life of his own now, Sam. One that doesn’t involve hunting – and one that doesn’t include   
me.” A pointed pause. “Or you.”

_What?_

At a complete loss, Sam floundered. Trying to work his way beyond the shock of John’s news, Sam   
stumbled over words as he tried to voice his questions. He snapped his mouth shut and did his   
damnedest to pull it together as John returned to his seat. He had no idea how long it took or how   
long they sat there in silence while he processed that unexpected bit of news, but he was grateful that   
John allowed him the time to do so. 

Sam had just gotten himself together enough to continue when he caught a glimpse of silver at John's   
throat, tucked under his t-shirt. He hadn't noticed it before but suddenly found it very odd. Other   
than his wedding band and a watch, Sam had never known the man to ever wear another piece of   
jewelry in his life. He was reaching for it before the conscious decision to do so caught up with him.   
He pulled the simple but sturdy chain free of the fabric and stared in shock. The solid weight of the   
silver ring was warm against his skin. He recognized it immediately. _Oh, God._ When he was finally   
able to meet John's gaze and speak, Sam barely recognized his own voice. 

“Where’s Dean, Dad?"

**-wWw-**

It was just shy of 5:00 am when Sam slowed to a stop across the street from the address that John had  
given him. He'd driven almost straight through from Palo Alto - stopping only when he was in danger  
of falling asleep at the wheel. From what he could see in the pre-dawn light, it was a nice  
neighborhood, complete with manicured lawns and white picket fences. The house he eyed for any  
sign of movement looked just like any other on the street - with the exception of the achingly familiar  
1967 Chevy Impala parked in the driveway - looking entirely too much for Sam’s comfort like it  
belonged there.

It was a beautiful home. Sam had seen a picture once a long time ago of their house back in Lawrence.   
With the exception of the breezeway, this house was eerily similar. He couldn’t help but wonder at   
that. It was nearly impossible for him to imagine Dean being happy let alone comfortable in the   
suburban existence that his father had mapped out. He had to see it for himself. John had finally   
understood that. Though his father had made him swear upon all he considered holy and good in the   
world that he would not, under any circumstances, interfere with any facet of Dean's life. He was   
sworn to surveillance mode only. As if sensing Sam's willingness to agree to anything to get his old   
man to give up Dean's whereabouts, John had played to his honor and made him promise. And for his   
brother’s sake, he had agreed to all of John’s terms. 

For now.

One thing that had not changed about John Winchester in the last five years was his penchant for   
hoarding secrets and the doling out of information on a need-to-know basis. It was as infuriating now   
as it had been when Sam was a teenager. The only thing that had stayed his tongue about it now –   
was the fact that he didn’t doubt for one second that his father would clam up completely and share   
nothing of Dean with him if he pushed it. It wasn’t until John felt satisfied that Sam was fully aware of   
the seriousness of his concerns that he told Sam where Dean was. And why. Scratch that, he told   
Sam as much as he thought he could handle at that moment. John agreed to explain things more fully   
when Sam could see for himself why it was no longer an option for him to be a part of his brother’s   
life. It also hadn’t escaped Sam’s notice that his dad was in full blown, if subtle, protection mode. His   
father was protecting Dean. From him. 

_The hell?_

He must have fallen asleep pondering the absurdity of why such a scenario would ever be necessary.   
Sam woke with a start as a car passed him on the quiet street. Running a hand roughly over his face,   
he tried to blink the remnants of sleep from his eyes and glanced at his watch. It was nearly 7:30.   
Sitting up straight in his seat, he peered at the house, alert for any sign of movement. A shadow at the   
window and slight ruffle of the ivory curtain indicated that someone was up and moving. He looked at   
his watch again dubiously. His Dean was never much of a morning person, unless a hunt required him   
to be so. Which, in most cases, it did not. 

Sam finished off the cold and thoroughly disgusting remains of the coffee he had purchased at the all-  
night convenience store a few hours ago. He’d kill for a fresh cup, not to mention a shower, but knew   
that until he actually saw Dean with his own eyes he wouldn’t fully believe that his brother was truly all   
right. At exactly 7:41, Sam’s wait came to an end. 

Intent on watching the front door, Sam almost missed the familiar figure that exited from the   
breezeway connecting the house to the garage. Clad in his signature jeans and a dark blue t-shirt,   
Dean Winchester paused in the early morning sun and lifted his face to the sky. Dean had always been   
attractive but until that very moment, Sam had forgotten how truly beautiful his brother was. He   
smiled, eyes prickling, as Dean took a deep breath of fresh air before making his way to the Impala.   
God, he looked good. Sam felt the ache of each and every year of separation coil in his stomach. Oh   
how he longed to launch himself from the vehicle and call Dean’s name. His fingers wrapped around   
the steering wheel, holding tightly, to keep from doing just that. His eyes drank in every nuance of   
movement - catalogued every detail of appearance from sun-kissed skin to that casual, rolling walk   
that was somewhere between stalk and swagger. And then he heard the unmistakable timbre of   
Dean’s voice. 

“Isabella.” His voice raised, but not yelling. “Come on, darlin'. We’re running late.”

Seeing or hearing no response from the house, Sam looked back to where Dean patiently waited. The   
sound of the door closing brought Sam’s focus back to the breezeway. He couldn’t see anything at   
first, due to a strategically placed shrub. Then a small child in a floral jumper and a tumbling array of   
dirty blonde curls that bounced when she walked made her way reluctantly to the Impala and Dean. 

Sam’s eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline.

_No way. It couldn't be._

“But what if he misses me?” the little girl asked, looking up at Dean. She looked about three years old.   
“He’ll be lonely.”

“Spooky will be just fine for a few hours, darlin’. I’m betting he’ll sleep all day and be ready to party   
when you get home.” 

Isabella didn’t look overly convinced. “Can’t I take him with me?” 

“No can do. We talked about this, remember?” Dean’s voice was patient as he placed a pink backpack   
Sam hadn’t even noticed he was carrying until now through the window of the Impala and opened the   
door. “Miss Chloe is allergic to cats. Besides, Spook needs to learn the lay of the land. Namely, his   
way to the litter box.”

“Spooky doesn’t like the litter box.” Isabella pointed out, unnecessarily by Dean’s response.

“I’ve noticed.” When the little girl sighed and looked back towards the house, Sam watched as Dean   
went down on one knee. 

“How about if I come back and check on him at lunchtime. Will that make you feel better?” Isabella   
looked at him earnestly.

“Will you play with him and give him a kiss for me?” She asked.

“I think I can manage that.” Sam could hear the smile in Dean’s voice. Apparently agreeable to the   
compromise, Isabella climbed into the back seat of the car and allowed Dean to strap her into her   
safety seat. 

Seconds later, the Impala roared to life and backed out of the driveway. Sam quickly ducked, making   
as if to retrieve something from the passenger side floor. He watched as Dean disappeared down the   
street and around the corner before starting his rental car and following. The Impala was very easy to   
track, so he kept a good distance. After heading east about four miles, Dean slowed and pulled up   
next to Miss Chloe’s Pre-School and Daycare. Pink backpack in one hand and Isabella’s little hand   
clasped securely in the other, the duo disappeared inside. Sam slowly shook his head at the   
implications of what he’d witnessed. He felt numb. Somewhere in the back of his mind he made a   
mental note to thank his father for in no way preparing him for this little…development. John always   
did prefer the shock factor to outright disclosure. The bastard.

Doing his best to remain positive, Sam tried to convince himself that the child was not Dean’s. So his   
brother had shacked up with someone who had a kid. Dean had always been good with kids. In fact,   
Sam found it pretty likely that if mommy dearest was relatively hot and proportionately well endowed   
that a child would be no deterrent at all to Dean. That assessment was more than a little unfair and   
Sam knew it. He couldn’t help it. Fear that he may have lost his chance with Dean, and that his   
brother had actually found happiness in the arms of someone other than him, was just now beginning   
to permeate. It made him feel cold. And not the simple turn the heat on in the car cold, no, more like   
a soul deep I’ll never be warm again cold. 

_Jesus, Sammy, melodramatic much?_ Sam would have laughed at Dean's voice in his head if the words   
weren't so damn close to the truth.

He fought the nearly uncontrollable urge to call John and demand all of the details he knew the man   
was withholding. If it weren’t for past experience, he may have done just that. John Winchester   
didn’t explain himself to anyone. Least of all his sons. Sam knew it would get him nowhere. There   
was something John wanted him to see, some understanding he wanted Sam to come to. Only then   
would he fill in the blanks and answer his questions. Sam had no choice but to wait. And observe.   
Dean exited the preschool still carrying on a conversation with someone inside who was out of Sam’s   
line of sight. He backed out of the building with a final nod and pulled the door shut before walking   
briskly back to the Impala. Sam marveled at the subtle but obvious bounce in his step. Dean was in a   
good mood. Once upon a time, that would have been a sure sign of trouble. Sam wasn’t sure what it   
meant now, but he knew that he had to find out. 

After a short distance, Dean stopped again and disappeared into a convenience store. He reappeared   
with coffee and newspaper moments later, pausing to take a large gulp before returning to the car.   
Sam shook his head with a small affectionate smile. Dean was the only person he knew who could   
drink scalding coffee like he was tossing back a shot. It was a wonder the man had any working taste   
buds left in his mouth. 

Sam followed the Impala another two miles out of town before he saw Dean turn off. The long stretch   
of road offered no place for Sam to pull over without drawing attention so he slowed as much as he   
dared. He watched Dean park the Impala towards the back of the lot, catching sight of the business   
sign as he passed. Walker's Auto Repair and Custom Body Work. The 'Custom Body Work' looked   
newer than the rest of the sign, as if it had been added more recently. Sam drove on until he could   
find an appropriate place to turn around and made another pass. Dean had already disappeared inside   
so Sam pulled over to get a better look at the business. 

The building was large and well maintained and set back from the road. The office area was two   
stories with large picture windows on both upper and lower levels. The garage was attached with four   
large bay doors, currently closed. The large lot was paved and filled with a mixture of domestic   
vehicles in various states of disrepair, and in stark contrast, there were about half a dozen classic or   
antique cars lined along one edge of the lot. Just by looking at the condition of the building and the   
work in the lot, it would appear that Walker's business was quite prosperous.

Around 8:30 one of the large bay doors opened. Sam reached for the gear shift, but paused when an   
older man he didn't recognize exited and walked across the lot to a midnight blue Mustang. The car   
started easily enough, but even to Sam's untrained ear it sounded...off. He forgot about the car   
completely when Dean strolled from the building and stood just outside the large door, coffee still in   
hand. Sam could tell from years of experience as Dean tipped his head that his brother was listening   
to the Mustang's engine, mind obviously focusing on the potential problem and how to fix it. He was   
so engrossed in watching Dean that he paid no mind to the few cars that passed by him on the road,   
until a forest green SUV slowed and turned into the lot. 

Dean smiled and lifted his chin in greeting as the vehicle passed him and parked in front of the office.   
He exchanged a few words with the older gentleman and made his way to the SUV. A petite blonde in   
her mid to late fifties, Sam surmised, had already stepped from the vehicle and met Dean in front of   
the office door. Sam watched as Dean lowered his head and allowed the woman to press a quick kiss   
to his cheek. Dean's body language had always been a telltale sign to Sam of his brother's disposition.   
It was clear to him now that Dean was not only familiar and comfortable with the public display of   
affection, but that he held the woman before him in similar regard.

She held a small covered basket out to Dean, who took it with a quick peek inside. Sam could just   
barely hear the low tones of their voices, but could make out no words. Dean shook his head a little,   
and Sam heard the woman's voice grow a bit more strident. She looked extremely pleased when he   
snatched a muffin from the basket and swallowed it in two bites. Dean was nodding and smiling   
around a mouthful while reaching for another as she gave him a quick pat to the chest. They talked for   
a few minutes, and again Sam was taken by the comfortable familiarity between the two. He chuckled   
a little to himself as Dean threw his head back and laughed at something that she said. It was an   
uninhibited full-bodied laugh that was pure Dean. His memory of it in no way compared to the reality.   
Such laughter had been rare in the years before Sam left. He smiled around the lump in his throat.   
Dean ate another two muffins before handing over the basket to the older guy who joined them.   
After a few more minutes of smiles and in-jokes that Sam couldn't hear, the trio split with the woman   
disappearing into the office. 

When it became apparent that Dean was going to be staying put for a bit, Sam reluctantly turned back   
to town to find a hotel and take that long-overdue shower. If he remembered correctly, there was a   
motel only a couple of miles from Dean's home. And man, didn't that sound weird. Home. That in   
itself was a foreign concept to Sam who, until his time at Stanford, had never lived anywhere for more   
than a few months at a time. His home had always been Dean. And he hoped that it would be again.

**-wWw-**

He made it back to the body shop long before lunch and parked up the road a stretch, watching closely  
for any sign of the Impala. Even at his relative distance from the shop, Sam could hear the distinct  
rumble of the familiar engine when it started. Dean pulled out of Walker's just past noon and took a  
right back to town. Sam followed.

True to his word to Isabella earlier that morning, Dean returned home. He disappeared into the house   
for less than ten minutes, reappearing with a sandwich in one hand and a duffle in the other. Back in   
town, Dean spent about forty-five minutes at the local gym. Sam saw several people nod or wave to   
Dean and his brother even paused to talk to a few different people on his way in and out of the gym.   
He didn’t think he’d ever seen Dean be so sincerely cordial or social. It was really beginning to freak   
him out. It was one thing to be on a hunt and have Dean role-play the part in an attempt to get   
information, but it was quite another to witness it in this sense. There were no mischievous glances in   
Sam’s direction, no secret smiles to indicate that it was all a show. Sam kept expecting some   
outrageous break in Dean’s behavior that never came. The warm sense of security he had felt in just   
seeing Dean after so many years was beginning to fade. In its place was a cold, creeping dread that,   
while Dean was very much safe and alive, he was lost to Sam all the same. It was beginning to   
undermine the hope that had all but kept him going since John’s news. His father had been adamant   
that there was no place for him in Dean’s life. 

Clenching his jaw, Sam firmed his resolve and cursed his moment of doubt. There would always be a   
place in Dean’s life for him. John was wrong. Dean was foremost and forever his brother. That would   
never change. If that was the only relationship they ever shared – it would be enough. Sam wanted   
more, there was no denying that, but if brotherly love was all he could have – he would deal with that.   
He just wanted to be a part of Dean’s life. 

The rest of the day was more of the same as Dean returned to Walker’s and Sam kept his distance.   
The urge to simply barge into Dean’s life had passed and Sam was slowly beginning to understand why   
John had insisted that he not interfere. Things would have to be handled a little more delicately than   
he had originally thought. He wouldn’t know for sure how much so until he had all the details. And it   
irked him that John still held those cards. Sam was pulled from his reverie by the distinct rumble of the   
Impala and was startled to find that it was just shy of 5:00. He grabbed a Granola bar from the almost   
empty box on the seat next to him and set out to tail his brother once again.

The trip was the exact same as the morning drive, but in reverse. It took about twelve minutes to pick   
up Isabella and another ten back to the house. Sam drove by the house as Isabella hopped from the   
car and for a quick moment, he could hear her sweet little voice as she chattered on about something.   
He watched her reach to take Dean’s hand before he lost them from his line of sight. 

He drove for a couple of blocks before turning around and returning to find a good place to park that   
wouldn’t draw too much attention. In such a nice neighborhood he wouldn’t be able to stay too long   
without garnering some suspicion. He would have to see about switching rental cars within the next   
couple of days. It was a chance he was willing to take for now. The only other option he had was to   
return to his empty room at the motel. He could barely stomach the thought. Despite the fact that he   
couldn’t talk to Dean, or even see him at the moment, Sam felt close to him here. 

For nearly an hour there was no activity that Sam could see from his spot on the street. As twilight   
approached, lights began to glow and he caught a glimpse of Dean at a small window. From his body   
movement and the focus of his attention Sam would guess that his brother was washing dishes. Dean   
hated to do dishes. Of all the chores they’d shared as children, it was the only one Dean hated with a   
passion. He would do anything to get out of it. It had been the reason that Dean was always the first   
to volunteer for cooking duties. John and Sam both knew this, but since Dean actually turned out to   
be the better cook, they were more than willing to take up dish duty. 

Sam’s gaze was drawn from the window to the front door when a sliver of light appeared. A small   
black cat darted from the opening and down the steps. Isabella’s face in a halo of curls appeared next.   
She opened the door fully but hesitated at the threshold. The kitten pounced playfully in the grass.   
Isabella seemed content to stay put and watch until the feline crossed to a distance that she was no   
longer comfortable with. Sam couldn't hear what she said but by the pointing and tone of voice he   
gathered the animal was being scolded. It didn't seem to be doing any good. When the child took a   
step out of the house, Sam's eyes went back to the window. Dean remained busy at the sink,   
unaware.

Sensing his shot at open freedom in jeopardy when Isabella made a grab at him, the kitten made a   
break for it. The little black cat zigzagged uncertainly before heading straight for the road, Isabella hot   
on his trail. Sam was out of the car before he even thought about what he was doing. As he was   
crossing the road he heard Dean's panicked, “Isabella!” from inside the house. 

Sam caught the kitten as it hopped from the curb, scooping it up in one large hand as Dean all but   
skidded to a halt next to him. His focus was entirely on the child in front of him as he went to his   
knees. He grasped her shoulders and turned her to him, the surge of adrenaline making him less   
gentle than he would normally be. Dean’s jaw tightened as he clamped down on whatever it was that   
wanted to escape his mouth first. As he noticeably tried to calm himself, Isabella seemed to realize   
the seriousness of the situation. She wilted in Dean’s grasp, looking up at him with big eyes.

Noticeably torn between relief and exasperation, Dean apparently decided that any dressing down to   
be given would be done in private. He gave the child a look that promised serious discussion once his   
heart rate returned to normal. Sam watched as Dean ducked his head and took a deep breath.   
Mindful of Sam's presence, Dean hoisted Isabella into the air and settled her on his hip before   
addressing him. Softly muted jade eyes turned their intense focus to him. Sam’s breath caught. Even   
with John’s warning, the complete lack of recognition was like a punch to the gut. 

“Hey.” Breathless with relief, Dean held his hand out to Sam. “Thanks, man.” 

Shifting the kitten to his right, Sam grasped the proffered hand, swallowing hard when he caught sight   
of the gold wedding band on Dean’s ring finger. “No problem. Glad I could help.”

If his voice was rough with emotion, Dean didn’t seem to notice. Sam appreciated the   
acknowledgment even as he realized that he and Dean were both aware that he had come to the   
rescue in time and that there was absolutely no traffic in either direction. Still, the slightest play of   
chance could have changed that. Dean was grateful for Sam’s intervention, and it showed.

“Who are you?” Isabella asked, bold and to the point like someone else he knew. He met her gaze as   
he released Dean’s hand. Any hope that the child was not Dean's biological child vanished with his first   
true glimpse of her tiny face. 

“I’m Sam." He couldn’t help but smile when she thrust her hand out for a shake as well. God, her   
features screamed Dean. She had the same gold flecked emerald eyes, tiny cleft chin and high   
cheekbones. Sam wondered if there was an ounce of the girl’s mother in that face.

“Sam.” Dean nodded and then introduced himself. “Dean. Dean Matthews. And this here,” He   
turned more fully to face Sam and hiked Isabella higher on his hip, “is my best girl, Izzy B.” 

“Nice to meet you, Izzy.” Sam said, barely recognizing his own voice. The moment was entirely too   
surreal. 

“Isabella,” The child corrected him. He was a stranger and hadn’t earned any privileges in the use of   
nicknames. 

“Isabella,” he said solemnly, understanding. “Sorry.”

“And this little escape artist,” Dean said, extracting the black cat from Sam’s grasp and handing it back   
to a very pleased Isabella, “is Spooky.” 

“Spooky?” Sam half smiled. “Interesting name.” 

“Daddy named him.” Isabella said proudly. Dean looked only marginally mortified at that bit of intel,   
but tried not to show it. 

”It suits him,” Sam said softly and Isabella nodded her agreement.

“I…ah....haven’t seen you around here before,” Dean said casually. “New to the area?”

Sam hadn’t worked up any type of cover story as he’d not actually planned on needing one quite so   
soon. He'd never been as quick on his feet as Dean when it came to improvising, but neither was he a   
slouch. 

“Yeah, just checking out the University.” Millidge was a college town about 50 miles west. “I’ve   
applied for a teaching position there. Had some family that used to live in the area and decided to   
check it out. I’m staying at a hotel not far from here.” Sam never liked lying, but it had been a   
necessary evil growing up. He'd learned long ago that he was quite good at it. With the exception of   
John and Dean, he could fool anyone. 

“Teacher, huh?” Dean looked suitably impressed and looked at him more closely as if calculating his   
age. "What do you...?" His question was interrupted as Isabella attempted to slither out of his grasp.   
Dean’s free hand settled on her leg, fingers curling under her knee to secure her. 

“Daddy, I gotta go.” Dean looked at her a moment, eyes going wide as comprehension set in. Oh. Oh!   
She continued to wiggle and her voice grew more urgent. “I gotta go, Daddy!” 

Dean set her down quickly and Sam caught a glimpse of the protection amulet he'd given his brother   
when they were children tucked inside his shirt. Isabella took off like a shot back to the house. Sam   
noticed the door was still wide open. Dean saw it as well. “Close the door,” he called out as she   
passed the threshold. He was shaking his head affectionately, and already backing away from Sam.   
“When you gotta go, you gotta go.” 

Unable to respond, Sam just smiled. 

“It was nice to meet you, Sam. Thanks again for your help.” Dean held out his hand once more and   
Sam accepted the fleeting touch. “Maybe we’ll run into each other again sometime.” 

_Count on it._ “Maybe we will.”


	2. Elemental Damage

Sam watched as Dean disappeared into the house without a backward glance. He walked back to his car in a daze of mixed emotions. While he was elated to have made contact with his brother, his heart felt heavy with loss. It appeared he had lost his chance. Dean had moved on without him. The man he loved was married to someone else…and had a child. Dean was a father. _A father!_

On auto-pilot, Sam started the car but remained frozen behind the wheel. He had no idea how long he sat there lost in thought. When, eventually, a neighbor eyed him curiously as she walked her black lab in the opposite direction it was enough to get him moving. 

For over an hour, he drove aimlessly before being drawn back to the quiet little street. Feeling less conspicuous under the cover of darkness, Sam parked in nearly the same spot. He just couldn’t bring himself to abandon hope. 

A low, pink glow from an upstairs window allowed Sam to easily identify Isabella’s room. Movement on the ground floor indicated that Dean was still up and about. Sam managed to catch brief glimpses of him at various windows before the lights were extinguished just before 10:00. Unable to move, Sam just sat there, staring at the house. 

A shadow interrupted the pink glow of Isabella's room and once again withdrew. Sam sighed when he saw no other lights. He was just thinking about calling it a night and getting some shut-eye himself when movement in an upstairs window caught his attention. Dressed comfortably in a t-shirt and sweatpants, Dean climbed through the second story window and sat on the eave over the breezeway. It was a corner of the house that would normally have been shadowed, if not for the nearly full moon. Sam watched as Dean took a swallow from a long necked bottle of beer.

The sight of his brother offered a contentment that was at complete odds with the roiling emotions that threatened to unbalance him. Without taking his eyes from Dean, Sam reached for his cell phone and speed-dialed his father, willing the man to pick up. He needed answers now. 

As if he'd been waiting for Sam's call, John picked up on the second ring.

"Dad." The whispered word held all of the day's worth of anguish. 

He heard his father sigh, then, "I know, son. I know." And Sam could hear it in the man's voice, and knew that John was the only other person who could possibly hope to understand what he was feeling right now.   
John let him have a long moment of silence to collect himself before saying, "He looks good, doesn't he."

"Yeah,” Sam agreed. "He does. He looks real...good." There was a lump in Sam's throat that deepened his voice with emotion. John tactfully ignored it. 

"Where's..." Sam had to start again, stumbling over the word wife even in his mind, vividly recalling the gold band on Dean's left hand. "Where's...?" 

He stalled again, unable to say it. Thankfully, John understood. 

"Jenna,” John supplied the name Sam had been dreading to hear. There was a lilt to the name, followed by a long sigh that had Sam on alert. "His wife's name was Jenna." 

"Jenna,” Sam said, testing the name out. It took a minute for the import of John's last few words to wash over him. "Wait. What do you mean was?"

When John remained silent, Sam's dampened hope surged, clashing uncomfortably with sudden dread. It made for a nauseating mixture in the pit of his stomach. 

"Dad?" He couldn't stand not knowing. His father's voice was low and quiet when he continued.

"Jenna was a nurse at the hospital in Millidge. Usually worked first shift." Sam listened intently, worried that if he interrupted, John would clam up again. "About a year and a half ago, she covered a second shift rotation so a friend could attend a wedding."

John paused before continuing and Sam knew he was getting to the heart of the matter. "She was hit head on by a drunk driver on her way home."

"Jesus." Sam said, horrified. "Dean." His eyes caressed the moonlit profile of his brother, longing to reach out to him. 

"Yeah." John agreed. "He was pretty messed up. For a long time. If it wasn't for Izzy..." His father cut off, voice uncharacteristically emotional. Sam absently noted the use of the nickname. "I'm not sure he'd have survived Jenna's death." 

"Isabella." Still a little in awe of her existence, Sam recalled an image of her looking up at him curiously as he'd snagged Spooky the cat. He continued to have a hard time with the reality of Dean being a dad. Sam had always known Dean would be an awesome father, but to be totally honest, he just never thought it would actually happen. 

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" John asked, filled with all the pride of any grandpa.

Sam shook his head, remembering all the tiny features so reminiscent of Dean. "She's...amazing." He said truthfully. 

On the rooftop, Dean took another sip of his beer and turned to set the bottle on the windowsill. Sam tensed a little, fearing he would disappear back into the house. Foolish as it was, if he could see Dean, he felt connected to him. He relaxed when Dean laid back against the roof, knees bent, gazing at the stars.

"She's got Mary's hair and Dean's bone structure." John continued. "Deadly combination, that. Gonna be a heartbreaker for sure." _Just like her daddy._ Sam was shocked into silence at the mere mention of his mother, not to mention the softness in John's voice as he continued to muse on his granddaughter. 

Sam listened with one ear even as he let his thoughts drift to Dean, to how nice it would be to lie next to that warm body, to run his hand across the smooth planes of his brother's stomach. To gently kiss soft, sinful lips. It was a desire for comfort and closeness that superseded anything sexual.

"God, I miss him Dad." The full longing wrapped in those words could not be denied. 

"I know, Sam." John replied in the hard voice Sam was used to, the same words spoken only moments before now held a different meaning.

"No, you don't." Sam countered tightly, in no mood to be told once again that there was no place for him in Dean's life. 

"You think this has been easy for me?" There was an edge of warning in that voice that Sam recognized. "I've been watching over that boy, my boy, for five years. Five years, Sam. Do you have any idea what it's like to have to watch from a distance as your child suffers and struggles? To know in your soul the deep pain that comes from losing the one and only woman you've ever loved and not be able to offer a word or touch of comfort? Do you?"

Sam swallowed, duly chastised, while John regrouped.

"Where are you?" John asked in a swift and sudden change of topic, firm hold on his emotions once again. “At the hotel?”

“No.” It was all Sam offered, but it was enough. 

“Sam.” John’s disapproval laced the word. “Tell me you’re not where I think you are.”

His silence was answer enough. He heard John sigh again, could envision the man running a hand through his hair. A habit that Dean had picked up over the years. To Sam’s surprise, John’s tone of voice changed.  
“Is he on the roof?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Sam’s surprise at the question was reflected in his response. The urge to ask, How do you know these things? flared and was quickly suppressed. John had always been just as good as Sam, but in an entirely different way, when it came to research. It was an area of mutual respect between them. One of the few that remained. 

“Isabella’s night-light still pink?” John's need to catalogue the tiniest of details never ceased to surprise Sam. He could just as easily been preparing for a hunt. _You got silver rounds in that chamber, son?_

“Yep.” Sam's mouth twitched, finding that particular question from his grizzly bear of a father somewhat amusing. He wondered just how often his father did exactly what he was doing now. 

"Dad..." Sam started after a long pause, hoping that John was ready to share all the details, ready to push if he didn't. "Tell me what happened." 

"Sam, I already..." Sam cut him off.

"All of it Dad." He lowered his voice, losing the edge. "I need to know." Not knowing if it would make any difference with his dad or not, he added, "Please." It had always worked with Dean. 

"What do you want to know?" John asked. Sam nearly rolled his eyes. Why did the man have to make it so damn difficult? Why couldn't he just tell him exactly what happened? All of it. So he didn't have to ask a thousand and one questions to get the whole story. There were too many holes in the brief outline of events that John had given him at Stanford. 

"Everything." He refused to play the question and answer game. "Just tell me everything." Then, for extra incentive he added, "I'm not going anywhere until I know what happened." Sam left unsaid for now that he knew John was somehow involved in Dean's current set up. The Impala and the amulet were proof enough of that. 

"Fine,” John agreed, managing to sound pissy about it. "Just...just get the hell out of there and go back to the hotel. Call me when you get there."

"Dad…” Sam heard the warning in his voice, an eerie echo of his fathers. John wasn't always the easiest person to reach. Twice in one night was just pushing the odds.

"Just do it, Sam,” John ordered before the line disconnected. 

With a long-suffering sigh that filled the small confines of the car, Sam tossed his cell phone to the passenger seat, jaw clenched. Yes, sir. No one could get his hackles up like that man. 

It was another fifteen minutes before Dean disappeared back through the window and twenty more before Sam chanced starting the car. The sound of the engine turning over was loud in the stillness of the dark and peaceful neighborhood. Reluctantly, Sam drove away, leaving behind for now that piece of his heart that was Dean. As Sam drove off, his gaze flicked to the rear view mirror, catching a final glimpse of the Impala in the driveway. 

_Night, bro._

**-wWw-**

Deciding to take John at his word, Sam took the time to grab a sandwich and a bottle of water at the mini-mart next to the hotel. Following a quick shower, he settled cross-legged on the bed in his sweats, dialing John even as he took the last bite of his dinner.

"Sam." His father's voice was neutral as he answered on the third ring. Having agreed to this, Sam was happy to hear that John was all business with none of the attitude.

"Start at the beginning,” Sam said, settling himself in, giving John the time he needed to decide exactly where that was.

"About two months after you left for Stanford, Dean and I headed to Georgia for what we thought was a standard poltergeist disturbance." Sam listened as John outlined the basic intel of the hunt. It was an old plantation that was being renovated by a rich couple who wanted to turn it into a tourist-trap bed and breakfast. Not long after breaking ground, weird things began to happen. No one was too worried at first and the crew even joked about having a ghost as a mascot, until two men were beheaded in a freak accident involving a stretch of barbed wire. That pretty much cleared the place. All work stopped. 

The owners, unwilling to give up on their investment, had asked around, and after a string of whispered referrals ended up with John Winchester's number. The fact that it was a paying gig all but sealed the deal. 

"It should have been an easy job,” John said and Sam held his tongue. Nothing could be taken for granted when dealing with the supernatural. His father of all people should have known that. 

"We chose the mausoleum for the cleansing ritual. The EMF picked up the highest readings in and around that area. We'd just barely gotten started when it all went to hell." 

"What?" Sam asked when John didn't continue right away. "Was it a poltergeist?"

"No."

John's response was short and clipped. Sam felt a small flutter of anxiety ripple through him, heard it in his voice as he spoke. "What was it?"

"Elemental."

Sam blew a long breath out between his teeth. Damn. He knew the lore on elementals but in all his years of hunting he'd never actually encountered any. Similar to poltergeists in manifestation, Elementals were a more powerful and unpredictable entity. Their penchant for malevolent mischief made them infinitely more dangerous. Means of exorcising them varied from complex to damn near impossible. You had to know exactly what type of elemental you were dealing with to even attempt it.

"What did you do?"

"What do you think we did?" John nearly snapped. "We high-tailed it out of there. No way were we prepared to deal with that." Only it wasn't that easy. It never was. 

"They're smart little bastards, Sammy,” John admittedly grudgingly. "They toyed with us, got us separated more than once."

"Wait, they? There was more than one?" Sam asked, not liking where this was going.

"Four." John let the answer hang in the air. 

"Fuck, Dad!" Sam said in horror, absently running his hand through thick chestnut waves. Ignoring the comment, John continued. 

"'Course, I didn’t know that ‘til later. Until it was too late. We'd walked in blind and had no choice but to deal with it."

Sam stayed quiet but in the back of his mind he couldn't still the voice that wanted desperately to place blame. If Dad had done his homework a little better they may have been prepared instead of caught off guard. He knew that thought wasn't entirely fair, knew from experience that sometimes, no matter how much preparation and research went into a job, there was always an element of the unknown to deal with when hunting. 

"They focused on me at first, no doubt perceiving my age as a weakness to exploit." And here, John hesitated. Sam gripped the phone tighter, feeling the weight of it. "I...if I hadn't..."

Okay, he was scared now. John Winchester didn't stutter - was never at a loss for words. John Winchester's voice never trembled with emotion. Not even when that emotion was anger. It took everything Sam had to keep his mouth shut, to just wait for John to get it together. 

"Without meaning to I telegraphed loud and clear my real weakness." Sam closed his eyes as John continued. _Dean._ "It didn't take them long to figure out that Dean's safety was more important to me than my own." A pause. "It...it happened so fast." 

"What happened to Dean, Dad?” Not unaffected by the rare vulnerability in his father's voice, Sam managed to sound sympathetic. 

"I'd just managed to get a good grip on him. I had him...I had him...and then he was just… gone. Ripped out of my hand." Sensing that John was replaying the scene in his mind, Sam didn't push.

"He was thrown about twenty yards. He hit the side of the mausoleum. Hard." Sam felt his eyes prickle when John's breathing hitched. "God, Sam." The voice wavered again. "I think I heard his skull crack."

"Jesus." His voice sounded strange and he felt a little numb - a little sick. 

"After that, everything just stopped. The EMF flat-lined, the wind died” John’s voice firmed as he talked, the details now coming a little easier. "I threw Dean over my shoulder and got the hell out of there before round two started."

Father and son maintained mutual silence until Sam realized that it was in deference to him. When he was able to speak again, Sam said, "Go on." 

"I took him to the nearest hospital. They did what they could to stabilize him. They weren't equipped to deal with a head injury that severe so he was life-flighted to Atlanta." John sounded tired and Sam knew that it had nothing to do with the lateness of the hour. "He was in a coma for forty-two days…" 

“God, Dad. Why? Why didn’t you call me?” Sam had promised himself he wasn’t going to go there. It was done. There was nothing he could do about it. This wasn’t helping at all. His head knew that. His heart didn’t care. 

"There was nothing you could have done, Sam" John's voice held no heat.

"You don't know that." Sam's voice held enough emotion for both of them. Aware that he was bordering on irrational, Sam got a lid on his emotions and when he continued his voice was softer. "I could have...just...been there."

"For how long?" John asked, no longer sounding quite so understanding. "A week? A month?" A significant pause. "A semester?"

Surprised by the blow, Sam's, "Screw you," was delayed. "You should have called."

"Look, Sam, I did what I thought best at the time. I had a decision to make and I made it." There was no apology or uncertainty in John's tone to indicate that he had any regrets. It brought back all the anger and resentment Sam remembered feeling for the man before he'd left for Stanford. He was practically seething.

"And to hell with everyone else, right?" Sam’s voice rose. John Winchester could infuriate him like no other. "This isn't the corps Dad, this is our family. Dean is my brother. I had a right to know."

There was dead silence on the other end of the line for so long that Sam thought John had hung up on him.

"You wanna hear this or not?" John asked coolly. Sam understood that he'd pushed far enough and was on the verge of losing his opportunity for answers if he didn't pull it together. He recognized that tone of voice and his response was instinctive.

"Yes, sir." The words were respectful, even if he couldn't quite manage to rid his voice of the lingering resentment he felt.

"Then do us both a favor: shut up and listen,” John ordered. Sam's jaw tightened but he kept quiet.

"I had every intention of calling you, Sam." It was a small concession, voice thawing imperceptibly. "Everything was just so uncertain those first few days." Not a justification by any means, John just didn't do that. More like he was just throwing the information out there for Sam to deal with however the hell he pleased. 

"The doctors didn't know when, or even if, Dean would wake up." Sam paled, despite the fact the fact he'd seen his brother alive and well less than an hour ago. "Oh, and they were pretty damn good at reminding me that, if by some miracle he did wake up, he’d likely suffer brain damage – if not from the initial impact then from the effects of the coma. The longer he stayed under, the less likely it was that he would fully recover.”

Belatedly, Sam discovered some empathy for this father. It must have been horrible to go through that alone. Difficult as it was, he quelled the urge to point that out, knowing John well enough to realize that it would be perceived as an accusation – and knowing himself well enough to realize that is exactly how it would sound if he put it to words. 

“I thought I’d lost him, Sam,” John said so quietly Sam almost missed it. It put into perspective something that Sam tended to sometimes overlook. While he loved Dean as a brother and a would-be lover, John’s love was that of a parent - a fierce and protective love of a kind that Sam could well imagine but with which he had no practical experience. 

“But you didn’t.” Then, “We didn’t,” Sam corrected. “Thank God.” The fact that he’d almost lost Dean without even being aware of it made him all the more desperate to reconnect with his brother.

“He’s a fighter, Sam,” John said with obvious pride. “More so than I ever gave him credit for.” And that was saying a lot. 

“So where does Jenna fit into all of this?” Sam asked.

“I met her when Dean was moved out of ICU. She was his third-shift charge nurse.” Sam snorted at John’s words. Unconscious and in a coma his brother still managed to pick up women. The only difference was, he’d married this one. Sam couldn’t help but feel more than a little jealous.

“All of the nurses were great with him, but there was something about Jenna…” John’s voice softened just a little and Sam realized that his father had actually been fond of the woman. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with that information. “The way she touched him, the way she spoke to him…” John paused and Sam really wasn’t sure he wanted to hear more, knew that he had to. “I think she was in love with him before he even opened his eyes.” 

"We got to know each other pretty well,” John continued, again, without any elaboration of details. "She was a spitfire, that one. Tough as nails one minute and soft as a breeze the next." 

Feeling irrationally betrayed by John's approval of this woman, Sam almost didn't register his father's next words 

"By the time I got back, Dean and Jenna were..."

"By the time you got back?" Sam interrupted abruptly, then it hit him that his dad had probably gone back to the plantation to finish the job. "You left him?"

"I had to Sam,” John’s said in his and don't give me any shit about it either voice. "We needed the money. The insurance set up was legit, but the deductible was five thousand dollars. That kind of cash isn't easy to come by." Legally. "As it was I had to call in Bobby and Caleb. It took all three of us to get rid of the little fuckers."

Well, that explained Dean's current alias. Sam knew about the policy - set up as a precaution for just such a circumstance. A fake credit card was fine for a day or two in the hospital, but anything involving long term care required something that would withstand scrutiny and that was actually valid. He and Dean were both listed on the policy with aliases that were variations of their first and middle names. Dean's was pretty easy. Sam's required a little tweaking as Samuel Jonathan just didn't sound quite right. It was Dean, thinking himself pretty darn clever that came up with Sam Johnson. John's son. _Get it? John's son?_ His brother had been obnoxiously proud of that. _You are such a dork. Yeah, like I'm the dork in this relationship._ Sam actually considered himself pretty lucky. The older Dean got, the more outrageous his sense of humor became. He could have easily ended up as Sam Dorkle at a later date by way of payback.

"So what happened? Was he still in the coma when you left?" Sam asked, not happy with the big gaping hole in the story. 

"Yeah." Turned out John had stayed with Dean for almost a month. Sam was surprised at that. "It took me a lot longer to get back than I’d planned."

"Why is that?" Sam asked, irritation evident, already suspecting the reason.

"I took another job on the way back." John's voice rose over Sam's loud exasperated sigh. "It was on the way." Again, not a justification, just an explanation. "I broke my leg and ended up with a concussion."

"Nice,” Sam said in the most disgusted voice he could muster.

"Caleb and Bobby had already split. I couldn't drive. Had to hole up for a bit until I could get the cast off." 

"How long?" He was in lecture mode, could feel it coming on despite the fact he knew how John would react.

"Don't start, Sam." Apparently John had recognized the tone. "I had given Jenna the number for my cell and was aware of every change in Dean's condition. She called me the day he woke up. He couldn't speak, didn't even seem to be aware of his surroundings for days."

Sam swallowed, effectively silenced. 

"Dr. Ellingwood called me three days later to inform me of the memory loss. It was too early to tell at that point how severe it was or if it was even permanent." 

“By the time I made it back to the hospital in Atlanta it was pretty clear that it was extensive. Dean remembered the basics such as walking, talking, how to read, knew his colors and such, but no memory of his life up to the time he came out of the coma.”

“Jesus.” Sam said, feeling a little shell shocked. “Is it permanent?”

“No way of knowing for sure, though after five years it appears that way.” John voice was resigned, but Sam could hear the sadness in it. “Doctor called it severe traumatic retrograde amnesia.

“So there’s no hope at all?” Sam asked, hating the small waver in his voice.

“Doc wouldn’t make any predictions either way. Brain injuries are unpredictable. He could wake up one day and remember everything or….not. The more time that goes by, the less likely it is that that will happen.”   
“But there is a chance.” Sam said more to himself, unable to mask the hope in his voice.

“Sam.” John’s voice held that low warning again. Sam overrode him with his next question.

"You still haven't explained how Jenna fits into this." John sighed and Sam gathered that John either didn't want to talk about it or was debating whether or not to let the previous subject go. 

"No. I haven’t." Apparently it was the former, which didn't sit well with Sam. He had a feeling he really wasn't going to like whatever his father had to say. 

"It took him months to recover, Sam," John said almost reluctantly, as if he knew Sam was going to have a conniption at whatever he was about to say and he wanted to cut it off at the pass.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Sam asked, dreading then answer. And then knowing his father followed up with _Oh, God ___"What did you do?"

"Sam..."

"What.Did.You.Do?"

For a long stretch of seconds, Sam only heard the sound of John's breathing. 

"I did what was best for Dean." A barely noticeable hitch in John's voice. "I let him go."  
Sam was speechless. 

"Jenna..." John continued. "She made an offer I couldn't refuse." 

"So, what? Sam's anger resurged and he asked, incredulous, "You just let her have him?"

"No." Surprisingly John didn't respond in kind. "Not at first.” 

"So what the hell happened?" Sam was losing his patience again. John was leaving out a helluva lot of details. 

"Jenna didn't take well to being told ‘No’.” There was a sound that may have been a laugh. Sam sensed a story there. “She was more than willing to fight for what she wanted. And she wanted your brother."   
Again there was that hint of affection and respect there that Sam couldn't help but resent.

"What about what Dean wanted? Did either of you even think of that?" Sam asked, unable to keep the accusation out of his voice.

"Dean wasn't in any condition to make decisions..." Sam interrupted before John could finish.

"He should have been given the choice, Dad! How could you take that away from him?"

"Listen, college boy,” John countered, voice cool as steel. "Dean may be your brother but he is my son. Got it? I don't answer to you on this. Or anything else for that matter. You wanted to know what went down and I’m telling you. Period."

John paused long enough to take a few deep breaths. "Understand?" The question demanded an answer.

"Yeah. I got it." Sam fumed. _Asshole._

John sighed and Sam could tell that he was pacing the floor of whatever room he was in.

"Look. I just...I don't need you second guessing me here, Sam." John's voice had returned to normal and was damn near apologetic. "It was the hardest decision I've ever made. Probably the only selfless thing I'd done since before..."

Sam was caught off guard by the underlying emotion he was picking up from his father.

"Your mother was taken from me, Sam. I had no say in the matter. I wasn't ready to let her go - don't think I ever would have been. But I wasn't given a choice. I just had to live with the consequences."  
The conversation had taken a turn Sam wasn't prepared for. 

"You leaving was nearly as unexpected. I realize now that it shouldn't have been, but at the time it blindsided me." John admitted. "I wasn't ready to lose you either."

"Dad..." Sam really wasn’t sure what to say, but felt he had to say something.

"I...uh...I didn't react very well, did I?" They both knew the answer to that and Sam couldn't help but smile, happy he'd gotten to a place where he could.

"Understatement," he said, feeling a connection with his father that was often elusive.

"Yeah." _Sorry 'bout that._

"Yeah." _Me too._

A Winchester apology at it's finest.

“It was different with Dean. I had a choice to make, Sam.” When John continued his voice was low, almost contrite. “I know I wasn’t the best father. I made mistakes, but I did the best I could.”

“I know.” It wasn’t often that Sam empathized with John but as an adult he could understand where the man was coming from, even if he didn’t agree with how he went about things.

“Jenna…she offered Dean a normal life. A life I couldn’t give him. A life I realized that he would never have if he continued to hunt.” 

“And you accepted her offer.” Sam’s voice was resigned, no longer having the energy to argue about events that had already come to pass.

“No.” John surprised him. “I told her to go to hell. Politely of course. It wasn’t about Jenna, it was about Dean.”

“Then….” Sam started to ask, confused.

“He was in love with her, Sam. It was never about what Jenna wanted. Dean made the decision for me.” John finished. “He just didn’t know it.”

God, that hurt - illogical as it was. It burned all the more for the fact he couldn't even properly resent the woman now that she was dead. 

It hadn't happened over night of course. Dean's recovery had taken months and John's acquiescence to Jenna's offer had taken nearly as long. During that time, John had remained an invisible witness to not only Dean's returning health and strength, but to his growing love for the spirited and devoted young nurse who stood by him through it all. 

Calling in a few favors, John expanded Dean's alias and had both his driver’s license and the registration for the Impala switched over. He'd even managed to acquire a social security card - which Sam suspected was actually used in setting up the insurance claim all those years ago. He likely had one as well. The Impala was Dean’s and as much a part of him as his beat up leather jacket and that cocky smile. It was a foregone conclusion that that piece of Winchester family history would remain with Dean. Sam had silently approved the sentiment. The protection amulet had been a harder sell, but John was adamant that Jenna understand its importance. There was no way she really could without knowing what they did for a living, but she had honored John’s wishes and promised that Dean would never be without it. Sam had to admit a grudging respect at that. 

"Did you see him or talk to him at all?" Sam finally had to ask. He knew John had watched over Dean and remained close between hunts, but he had to know that John had at least tried to make that connection with Dean - hadn't let him go without a fight. 

"Once." The response was final and filled with undefined emotion. Sam knew to let it drop.

"You were right to leave, Sam,” John said. "I know that now. This fight - this never- ending hunt is my life - my fight, not yours, not Dean's. It never should have been."

_Okay. Speechless. Again._

"You took your chance at normal, Sam. I resented the hell out of you for it and for leaving like you did - but I respected you for it. Eventually,” John said seriously, but with a smile in his voice.

"This was my one and only chance to make sure Dean got the same opportunity. We both know he would never have taken it on his own. So I made the decision for him. I let him go." And there it was - the whole sordid mess. 

“It didn’t exactly turn out happily ever after.” Sam pointed out.

“Does it ever?” John asked pragmatic as ever.

Sam had to agree.” Guess not.” 

“Dean’s happy, Sam,” Leave him be, was implied. “There’s no telling what effect your presence will have in his life.”

Sam frowned at the comment, defensive. “He’s my brother. I want to be part of his life.”

“It’s not about you, Sam. It can’t be.” John was relentless. “Dean has a child. Isabella will always be his first priority.” _Not you, not anymore._

“I know that,” Sam said sharply, resenting the implication. “Do you honestly think that I would in any way interfere with that?”

John sighed, but was apparently not ready to give up. “You'll only complicate things for him, Sam."

"I don't think Dean would agree,” Sam said stubbornly, but feeling a heartfelt truth behind the statement.

Another sigh, this one in exasperation. "Just,” John cut off with a low growl. "Just promise me you won’t do anything impulsive." 

“Ah…” Sam's silence was apparently telling. _Impulsive?_

"Sam…” It was both a warning and a demand for explanation.

Sam rubbed the back of his neck self consciously, knowing John wasn't going to like this but deciding it was best to just get it out in the open. "It may be a little late for that."

The stillness on the other end of the line was unsettling. 

"Look, Dad, it just happened,” Sam explained without really explaining, refusing to feel guilty. "It was unavoidable."

"What exactly was unavoidable?" God, Sam hated that interrogatory tone, but refused to react to it.   
"I had a little run in with Dean and Isabella today."

The words were barely out of Sam's mouth when John exploded with, "Damnit Sam!"

“Like I said – it couldn’t’ be helped.” Taking a page out of John’s book, just for spite, Sam refused to elaborate.

“You sure ‘bout that?” John asked, deceptively calm.

Sam refused to dignify that with a response. John could take that however the hell he pleased.

John had apparently moved on. His next words had Sam’s full attention. “Be careful with him, Sam. There’s no telling how his subconscious will respond to your presence.”

A very real concern that Sam wasn’t sure how to respond to.

“Look, I’ve got to cut this short,” his father said unapologetically. "Got something I've got to take care of." Then in USMC mode added, “Keep me updated.” 

It was an acknowledgement of sorts. No more threats or warnings – _do what you’ve got to do, what I know you’re going to do – just be careful how you do it._

Sam’s agreement was soft and he felt an undeniable relief at John’s assent. 

“I will.”


	3. Unexpected Encounters

For the next few days, Sam kept his distance. His talk with John hadn’t weakened his resolve or determination to work his way into Dean’s life, but it did put into perspective just how carefully he would have to tread. A damaged psyche was not to be taken lightly, especially one as near and dear to him as his brother’s. Sam also had to reluctantly admit that John had driven home the very real possibility that Dean’s memory loss may be permanent. He wasn’t in the least bit ready to give up hope, but he had begun to think about what place, if any, he would have in Dean and Isabella’s life. He would have to make sure that his actions now did not adversely affect any place he may have in their lives down the road.

After tailing Dean to work the next day, Sam had made his way to the local library and quickly found the article about the accident that had killed Jenna. The twenty-one year old intoxicated driver from Millidge had also been killed on impact. The accident had made front page news - not unusual for a small town. Sam winced in sympathy when he saw the black and white photo of twisted wreckage. The two vehicles hit at such force that the metal had fused together in spots. It was plain to see why there had been no survivors. 

The following week's newspaper held Jenna's obituary. He'd hoped it would have an accompanying photo. It did. Sam tried not to let any of his conflicting feelings for the woman color his initial impression of her and was not entirely sure he succeeded. 

She had been pretty in a plain sort of way. And she’d had a nice smile - he'd give her that. Okay, so maybe he wasn't doing that great a job of being impartial. Based on looks alone, Sam guessed he could see what Dean may have found attractive. She wasn't his brother’s usual busty, long-legged fare, but there was a spirited challenge in her gaze that Sam begrudgingly likened to Dean. 

Listed in the obituary as surviving family along with Dean and Isabella was Jenna's mother - Olivia Walker. Sam recognized Olivia as the woman Dean had been so comfortable with his first day in town. A prominent member of the community and her church, Olivia was mentioned in several fundraising and charity articles. Sam skimmed through most of those, looking for more personal information. He found two articles of interest.  
The first one caught him completely off-guard: Dean and Jenna's wedding announcement. He ignored the ache in his chest and swallowed hard as the picture filled his screen. Dean stood behind Jenna, arms wrapped around her as she turned slightly in his embrace. They were gazing at each other with such intimacy that Sam almost felt intrusive. It was obvious that for that frozen moment in time, the world beyond each other had ceased to exist. It was a glimpse of something special - something Sam had never expected to see. Dean. In love. 

With someone else. 

The pain that particular acknowledgement inspired was irrational, he knew. Not that it mattered. The fact that Dean didn't remember him, that he too had for a time moved on and found what he thought was love with Jess, made no difference. To see the love in those eyes given so freely to another, someone not him, just plain hurt.  


Sam's gaze drifted to Jenna. He couldn't help but wonder what it was about this woman that had captured Dean's heart. It saddened him to know that he would never get the chance to find out. Anyone who could put a smile like that on his brother’s face was definitely worth getting to know. With that thought, Sam did his best to let go of the lingering thread of jealousy and resentment he felt toward the woman. It didn’t make the hurt go away, but it somehow made it more bearable. 

The next article of interest was another obituary. This one for Ramsey T. Walker survived by his wife Olivia and daughter Jenna. Nearly twelve years ago Ramsey died suddenly of a heart attack. Walker’s Auto was briefly mentioned as his life’s work, jointly owned and managed by the husband and wife team. Sam found it somewhat surprising that Olivia continued the day-to-day running of the business after her husband’s death.  


He’d also discovered over the last few days just how firmly ensconced Olivia was in nearly all aspects of Dean's life. They worked together, she showed up for sudden unexpected visits, picked Isabella up from Miss Chloe's on Tuesdays and Thursdays and cooked them dinner at her place on Sundays. Sam had viewed her as an obstacle at first, but her obvious fondness for Dean soon won him over. He genuinely looked forward to meeting her face to face. While connecting with Dean was his ultimate goal, he very much recognized the importance of making a good impression with the two women in his life. 

Once Sam had Dean's general routine down, he'd set himself to the task of figuring out exactly how to ease into his brother's life. His objective was not to force his way in, but to have Dean invite him in. Taking into consideration the possibility that his brother’s memory loss could be permanent, Sam decided that slow integration would be the best way to go for everyone involved. 

He started with a membership at Dean's gym. He made a point of showing early for a light workout and leaving just as Dean arrived. The first few times they passed was at a distance and Sam didn't even make eye contact. He did the same at the grocery store, finding himself checking out just as Dean and Isabella arrived on Saturday mornings. He tried very deliberately to been seen without taking any obvious notice of Dean's presence. 

The following Sunday, he decided to attend the 9:30 worship service he'd followed them to the previous week. Yeah - so that had been a bit of a shocker – but it had turned out to be totally worth the trip for the slightly startled smile of recognition with which Dean graced him as their eyes met on the way out. The genuine pleasure in his brother's gaze was a ray of sunshine to his soul – banishing clouds of loneliness and doubt with a single glance.  


Despite the desire to do otherwise, Sam left with the departing crowd as parents made their way downstairs to the Sunday school classes. The opportunity to speak never arose. 

On Tuesday, Sam followed Dean to Millidge, and like the previous week while doing the same, lost the Impala in the heavier traffic of the city. At a loss for anything better to do, Sam decided he would check out the University.  


The campus was smaller than he was used to and the lack of private funding was obvious. He took an abbreviated tour while evening classes were in session and then settled himself on a patch of grass in the quad with his laptop, close enough to the library to pick up a wireless connection. While it powered up, he removed his jacket and pulled out a bottle of water and some snacks from his bag. Barely removed from student status himself, he blended well.  


A half hour later he was still researching the curriculum, but overall was impressed with what the University offered. While it was unlikely he would find a position at this point in the summer semester, Sam decided he would come back during business hours and leave his resume anyway. His limited savings and the money that John gave him for graduation wouldn't hold out much longer. A teaching position would be ideal, but he wasn't above taking any job at this point. His only criterion was that it not interfere with his plans to reconnect with Dean.

An increased trickle of foot traffic through the quad and the darkening sky had him shutting down his laptop. He wanted to take one final tour of the campus before dark. He rose to one knee, gathering his things. 

“Sam?” 

The familiar voice in such an unexpected setting caught him completely off- guard. Legitimately startled, Sam floundered as he looked up into beautiful moss-colored eyes. “Ah…” He had nothing. For the life of him he couldn’t think of a thing to say. _Damnit! Say something!_

His brother apparently took the ensuing silence as a lack of recognition and politely reintroduced himself. “Dean.”

“Yeah.” Sam’s lips quirked into a soft indulgent smile. “I remember.”

Pointing with his chin at Sam’s impromptu picnic, Dean asked, “You need a hand?”

“Oh.” Sam immediately started shoving things in his messenger bag. “Ah…” _God, Sam – could you be any more inarticulate?_ It didn’t matter. Dean had already crouched next to him, handing him his jacket and what remained of his gummy bears. His ears pinked a little at that. 

“Thanks,” he said graciously as they both stood and started walking towards the parking lot.

"So,” Sam took in the backpack Dean had slung over his shoulder with surprise that he tried not to let color his voice, “you're taking classes?"

Dean gave a little shrug, didn't turn his head to meet Sam's gaze. "Just one." 

Sam nodded, taking the hint not to push when Dean didn't offer any further information. He managed to feel a little guilty about his plans to hack into the school's system later to find out. 

"How about you?" Dean asked, meeting his gaze. "How goes the job hunt?"

"Still working on it." Sam replied. "I'm likely looking at a fall position if there's an opening. Guess I'll have to find something else for the summer."

Dean seemed to consider that, lips pursed. Sam wondered what he was thinking. He missed knowing what went on in Dean's head - missed the quicksilver comebacks and glib commentary. 

"Know anything about cars?" Dean asked finally.

Okay, that was so not what he was expecting. "Some," he said, and then admitted with a smile as Dean glanced at him, "Not much." 

"Know how to do an oil change? Check fluids?" Sam paused, realizing that Dean was serious - realized just what his brother was potentially offering.

"Ah." Sam's mild surprise was evident. "It's been awhile, but yeah." 

Dean nodded to himself and they walked a bit further. "I could use some help at the garage. It's not the most glamorous work, but we offer a decent wage and could work around any interviews that may come your way." Dean finished with, "If you're interested."

_If he was interested?_ Hell, he'd clean sewers at this point if it meant being close to Dean. He was grateful for the offer, made sure Dean could see it in his eyes. Still, he made a show of thinking about it. 

"Can I get back to you on that?" He asked, already planning to ask Dean for his cell phone number. "I've got a few leads that I want to follow up on first." 

"Sure." Dean said in a tone that indicated he was perfectly fine with that. "No problem."

When they reached the Impala, Sam couldn't resist his comment of, "Sweet ride."

Dean practically beamed, but didn’t comment.

"What year is she, sixty-six?" he tested.

"'Sixty-seven," Dean corrected.

Sam looked her over appreciatively, peeking inside at the interior. He'd never held the attachment to the Impala that Dean had, but he still felt that familiar sense of home in her presence.

"How long've you had her?" Sam pretended to still be checking out the car.

"Long as I can remember." Dean barely paused, though he did look away.

Sam quirked both brows at the understated, yet accurate deflection. When Dean physically withdrew, Sam dropped it. "She's a beauty."

As they exchanged cell phone numbers, Sam noticed Dean glancing at his watch and wondered if his brother was anxious to get home to Isabella. He was just getting ready to make his farewell when Dean asked him, "So, Sam, I've been meaning to ask you, what exactly do you teach?" 

There was a little too much curiosity there for the question to be strictly polite. Sam was prepared for the question, had his answer planned out for the sole purpose of gauging Dean's reaction. 

"I'm qualified to teach a variety of subjects,” he started, easing his way. "But my specialty is paranormal studies." God, he hated lying to Dean, no matter how necessary he deemed it. 

Now that got him an undisguised look of surprise. Twin brows of inverted v's rose nearly to Dean's hairline.  
"What?" Sam asked with a small smile that said he was used to the response. "You don't believe in the supernatural?"

Dean pursed those perfect lips again, carefully monitoring his response. "Not as a rule," he stated thoughtfully. "I believe there are things that happen in this world that can't be explained - but as far as things that go bump in the night..." Lifting a shoulder and letting it fall Dean trailed off, letting silence convey his skepticism. Then as an afterthought he added, "No offense."

Sam glanced at the amulet around Dean's neck, a small smile of what should have been shared secrets teasing the corners of his mouth. "None taken." 

Dean frowned suddenly, brows furrowing. Sam held his breath. Come on, bro, I know you're in there. Dean tipped his head to the side, studying him intently for a long moment before asking, "Are you sure we've never met?"

Sam shrugged and fell into his role, "It's possible, I guess. I grew up in the area. Did you go to Lake Region High School?" He asked, watching Dean's expression closely. 

His brother's face went carefully blank, and his eyes dropped to the ground. Instead of answering Dean glanced at his watch again and changed the subject. “Whoa, hey, I didn’t realize it was so late. I’ve gotta hit the road, man.” The door to the Impala opened with a groan and Dean dropped his pack into the backseat. "Gonna be late for my date."

Sam blinked, his stomach doing a lazy little flip flop. "Date?" He asked, trying to sound causal.

"Yeah,” Sam felt his heart sink as Dean went on to elaborate for him. "Beautiful, blonde...about three feet high." 

Relieved, it was easy to return Dean's playful grin. "Ah, an evening with the lovely Isabella." Sam surmised.

"Bedtime stories with Izzy B," Dean confirmed. "One of my favorite times of the day." 

Dean glanced at his watch again, and despite his claim of being pressed for time, rested his arms on the roof of the Impala. “See, the deal is,” he leaned forward a little, towards Sam, voice lowered- “If I’m late getting back, I get stuck reading ‘If You Give a Moose a Muffin.’”

Sam bit his lip to keep from laughing. Those words - out of Dean’s mouth? Too friggin’ much. And he didn’t stop there. “Not that that’s bad, mind you, it’s just, you know, her favorite story right now and she could listen to it over and over and over again. I mean, have you read that story?”

Apparently the question was rhetorical as Dean continued, “Ole Mr. Moose seems nice enough to begin with but, dude, let me tell you; by the thirty-sixth read-through - he’s a presumptuous bastard.” 

Sam couldn't help it, he laughed out loud and Dean seemed to realize that he'd gone off on a little tangent. There was another subtle head tilt at Sam's chuckle, but it lacked the intense scrutiny of before.

"Well," Sam said, still smiling, “I could think of worse ways to spend an evening." 

His voice must have hinted at loneliness, his feeling of exclusion from his brother's life. Dean's smile dimmed a bit and he watched Sam's face closely. Curious, but obviously too polite to probe, Dean simply nodded in agreement.

"Hey,” Sam said, letting Dean off the hook. "I've got to take off myself. I'll call you…about the job?"

"Sure." Dean answered. "Anytime." The sincerity in his brother's voice buoyed him as he walked away.

**-wWw-**

Sam didn't go to the gym the next day or follow Dean back to the university for his Thursday evening class. He'd made a real issue of having other employment leads to follow up when Dean had offered him the job that he figured it would be better to just seem...busy. Besides, he really felt that he'd made some progress in that first step of reconnecting with Dean and didn't want to push it with too many _coincidental_ meetings.

That lasted until about Friday when he could stand it no longer. He went to the gym hoping to run into Dean at the usual time, but was disappointed when Dean didn't show up at all. Sam had lost track of how many times he'd flipped his cell open and scrolled down to Dean's number. It took every ounce of self-control he had not to hit the call button just to hear the sound of Dean's voice. Maybe once things got more casual that would be an option, but right now, he feared it would be too awkward. To Dean, he was still a stranger. Soon, though, that would be changing.  


Sam just had to keep taking it slow. 

On those days when direct contact with Dean just wasn’t possible, Sam drove by Dean’s house and Walker's so many times he lost track. He even made a point of checking in on Olivia's place when he knew Isabella was there.  


Saturday brought a slight variation to Dean's schedule. Instead of finding the Impala in the driveway at home, Sam discovered Dean working at Walker's for a few hours. He wondered if there was an actual need in what he had assumed was a charitable offer of employment. The rest of Dean's day had been spent doing errands and capped off with an hour long visit to the park with Izzy. 

Feeling a little disheartened at the pace in which things were progressing, no matter how appropriate he deemed it - Sam almost skipped the Sunday morning worship service the following week. In his head Sam knew he was doing the right thing by slowly integrating his way into Dean and Isabella's life, but the last few days with no contact at all had been long. And lonely. Just being in Dean's presence offered a familiar comfort that had been denied him these last five years. And that, of course, was the deciding factor that got him up and moving. 

He arrived early this time, before Dean and Isabella. Spotting Olivia, Sam took a seat a few rows directly behind her, noticing that she was saving two seats next to her. More than once Sam saw her turn an expectant gaze to the entrance. 

The pre-service crowd was exceptionally social and Sam found himself the center of bubbling curiosity in the form of handshakes and sincere smiles in an effort to make him feel welcome. It was a definite drawback in that he didn't want to draw attention to himself. 

When it was obvious that the service was going to begin soon, everyone found their seats. It was at this time that Dean and Isabella made their fashionably late entrance. Sam followed Olivia's gaze as she turned and smiled at them. Dean looked a little tired, but dashing in a pale blue button down shirt and tan khaki’s. He was dressed nice, but casual, with his customary spikes tamed. Isabella held his hand in a simple cut royal blue dress and matching head scarf.

Both were striking in their own way and drew many a gaze. Sam noticed more than one appreciative glance slide over his brother's features and then trail speculatively down to the gold wedding band he still wore. His jaw tightened in response. He wasn’t possessive by nature, but he could feel it slowly coiling in the pit of his stomach, had always felt that way where Dean was concerned. And if he wasn't mistaken, some of the young ladies subtly ogling his brother were actually sitting right next to their respective husbands or boyfriends. The nerve.

The little old ladies, of course, had eyes only for Isabella. They watched delightedly as she spotted Olivia and looked up at Dean questioningly. He let her hand go with a smile and she sprinted enthusiastically to her grandmother as if it had been a week instead of the previous day since they'd last seen each other. Sam, too, had to smile when Isabella threw herself into Olivia's arms.

Sam was still watching Olivia when Dean joined them. He saw clearly the sudden concern that colored her expression, unaware that it was now mirrored in his. Dean took his seat, exposing his profile to Sam as he turned. Her hand settled lightly on the side of Dean's face and she asked him a question too softly for Sam to hear. After a moment she nodded at his equally soft response, but continued to study him. Her thumb smoothed over his skin once before she released him, turning her attention to the morning's hymns. 

Like last week, Sam never got close enough to actually speak to Dean. The post-service welcoming committee kept him pinned inside the vestibule while his brother made his way to Isabella’s Sunday school class. He did however get a commiserating quirk of a smile at his predicament and a friendly nod as Dean passed. By the time he made it out of the church and back to his car, Dean was gone. 

“See you next week, Samuel,” the very elderly Ms. Boley said as one of the church elders escorted her to her vehicle. Sam didn’t know which was scarier: the fact that the woman was about to get behind the wheel or that she had convinced herself, in the twenty minutes or so since they'd met, that Sam was the perfect companion for her granddaughter, who just so happened to be an unwed mother…of three. Sam waved and smiled politely and then took off in the opposite direction. 

Pretty sure of Dean’s schedule for the remainder of the day, and aware that he played no part in it, Sam decided to head to the supermarket. His supplies were down to an almost empty jar of peanut butter and two apples. Time to restock. 

Pulling into the lot of the only market in town, Sam was surprised to see the Impala parked at the far end. It was another slight variation in Dean’s schedule. For the last two weeks his brother had gone shopping on Saturday. Sam hesitated. He hadn’t planned this potential meeting. Encouraged by the results of the accidental meeting at the university earlier in the week, Sam parked the car and took a deep breath. 

The number of cars in the parking lot should have been a dead giveaway to the mob scene inside. Sam was momentarily stunned by the mayhem that greeted him. The only thing that kept him from turning around and walking right back out was the knowledge that somewhere within the morass were Dean and Isabella. He took a deep breath and bravely entered the fray. 

Quickly discovering that it was useless to actually look for Dean in the ebb and flow of chaotic shoppers, Sam focused on his mental grocery list, hoping to run into his brother somewhere along the way. He did cross paths with a few familiar faces from the morning’s service. Thankfully, they merely smiled at him and went about their shopping. Sam had just dropped a jar of grape jelly into his basket when he heard Isabella’s voice.

“Sam!” She cried, recognizing him from a distance. 

Dean turned and looked at him in surprise. From her spot secured in the front of the cart, Isabella waved and spoke excitedly as he approached. “Hi Sam.”

“Hey there.” He included both of them in his response, trying to gauge Dean’s reaction to his presence.  
“Hey.” Dean’s voice was friendly. “Can you believe this mad house? I knew there was a reason we avoided this place on Sundays.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed wholeheartedly. “It’s pretty crazy.”

“You got that right. Crazy,” Dean repeated, looking to Isabella, with a twinkle in his eyes. “You about ready to bust out of this loony bin darlin’?”

She giggled at him, clutching a pink box of Barbie Fruit Snacks to her chest as if Dean might decide to take them away at any moment.

“We’re making a break for it.” Dean had turned back to him. “You in?”

Sam gave a lopsided smile and reined in his affection. He’d always loved a playful Dean. “You bet.” 

He followed Dean to the front of the store to check out, ignoring the fact that he hadn’t even gotten half of his items. The backlog of shoppers waiting in line was staggering. He heard Dean’s resigned, “Oh, man,” and couldn’t agree more. Sam was tempted to leave once again. Just drop his basket and walk away. He could tell by the look on Dean’s face that his brother would very much like to do the same. The sigh that followed indicated, however, that it was not an option.

There were three registers open and approximately twelve people waiting in line – with more trickling in from various aisles. One of the open lines was an express lane, but Sam bypassed it and stood in line behind Dean. He took note of the next line over.

“This one looks to be moving a little faster,” he observed.

Dean took a look and then said, “I think we’ll stick with this one.” He gave a head nod to the sign above the register that read _No Candy._

Not having any kids of his own and never really having been around them much it took Sam a long minute to understand the significance. 

Dean watched as understanding dawned and Sam’s eyes flicked to Isabella. He smiled wryly and said, “Izzy B and I learned through trial and error that it's best not to flirt with temptation.” 

“Good idea,” Sam agreed with his new level of understanding. 

“Besides,” Dean added, looking at Isabella, “we have an arrangement now, don’t we darlin’?”

Isabella hadn’t really been paying attention. There was entirely too much going on around her. With Dean’s prompting she proudly held up her pink box of gummy fruits. 

”She gets to pick out one thing,” Dean went on to explain, then added with emphasis, _“within reason.”_

Dean tucked his chin to his chest and looked at Sam through a fringe of too long lashes, as if sharing a secret. “Made the mistake of leaving that offer open-ended when I first put it on the table. I didn’t realize how stupid that was until we passed through the bakery.”

The bakery was positioned near the front of the store Sam recalled. You pretty much had to pass through it to get anywhere else. It was filled with cakes and cookies and every possible sugary confection one could imagine. 

“Man,” Sam said in commiseration.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed.

“What did she pick?” Sam asked with a smile, legitimately curious.

“A cake.” Dean held his hands out wide in front of him in what had to be an exaggeration of size. “A big one. With _Elmo_ on it.” Then as if he were certain Sam would have no idea of the conspiracy involved, he added, “They do that on purpose, you know.”

Sam laughed, and without thinking said, “Dude – you know who Elmo is?”

Dean pulled his head back a little and looked at him. “Dude,” he responded in kind, apparently not the least bit offended by Sam’s over familiarity, “who doesn’t?”

The banter, mild as it was, was a balm to Sam's soul. There were so many things he'd taken for granted when it came to Dean - and exchanges like this brought them all home. Strange as it was, with Dean standing right next to him, Sam really missed his brother at that moment - missed the shared history that connected them on a more intimate level. 

The lines continued to move slowly, though they did even out a bit when another register was opened. Sam thought Isabella was exceptionally well behaved considering the wait.

"So,” Sam asked carefully, broaching Dean's previous offer of employment. "Does that job offer still stand?"

Dean glanced up at him. "No luck, huh?" He asked, knowing Sam would prefer a teaching position.

"Actually,” Sam explained. "I did have a little." Turns out the professor teaching the condensed summer intro to psych course had to take an early medical leave due to pregnancy complications. "It's only two days a week for the remainder of the summer. But a full-time position for the fall looks promising if all goes well. Thing is, I could really use something to keep me busy in the meantime and bring in a little extra cash." 

Dean nodded, seemed a little surprised that Sam was really interested. "Sure. I can use the help. You don't mind working the occasional Saturday do you?"

Sam shook his head once. "Not a problem."

"Well all right then," Dean held his hand out to Sam and they shook on it. "When can you start?" And with that, the matter was settled. They worked out the details as the line continued to inch forward. 

When only one other person remained in line in front of them, Dean spun his cart around with practiced ease so that he stood behind it and Isabella preceded him through the check out. Isabella made a long reach for the divider and placed it behind the last remaining items already on the conveyer belt. She began an immediate conversation with the clerk who was still trying to finish up with his current customer. The kid looked about seventeen and positively overwhelmed. Sam felt a moment's sympathy at the 'Thank you for your patience, I'm new.' ribbon stuck to the young man's nametag. His name was Chuck. Poor Chuck.

Dean had already started unloading and Sam was mildly surprised at the amount of fruit and green leafy vegetables that comprised his brother's order. There was more nutrition in that one cart than Dean had ever consumed in his entire life. 

The clerk began scanning Dean's order as Isabella continued her attempt to lure him into a conversation. In his frazzled state he focused only on what he was doing, oblivious to her chatter. It didn't seem to bother her first, but Sam soon caught the frustration in her tone. 

Dean continued to transfer items from the cart. Sam noticed he had a couple of things on the rack underneath. He set his basket down and retrieved the cat food and kitty litter and handed them to Dean. 

"Thanks, man." Dean said, grateful, but clearly distracted.

Isabella waved her hand at the clerk and said, "Hello? I'm talking to you." She clearly had plans for the item she was holding and was becoming upset that he was not paying attention to her. It was starting to get to Sam.

Apparently Dean had had enough also.

"Hey!" Dean said, slamming down a can of French-cut green beans in front of Chuck and turning more than a few heads, "she's talking to you." 

The clerk froze, eyes wide, as they flickered back and forth between Dean and Isabella. When he made eye-contact with her, Isabella held up her box, glad to finally have his attention. "This is mine,” she happily informed him.  


Not sure what to do with that information, the clerk remained frozen, looking to Dean for guidance.

"We'd like a separate bag for that, please,” Dean said without rancor and returned to his task. Sam watched as Chuck scanned the item, dropped it into a small plastic bag and handed it to a pleased Isabella. He responded with a surprisingly sincere, “Your welcome,” to her well mannered, “Thank you.” 

Sam watched the scene play out with a raised brow, but wisely remained silent. The whole exchange was just so...Dean.

Sam realized at that moment that even if his brother never got his memory back, he needed to be a part of Dean's life. At that moment, it didn’t matter if they ever become lovers - he'd always love Dean as a brother. Had, over the past few years, realized his feelings for Dean as a potential lover. But was just now beginning to realize how much he cared for Dean as a friend. 

Dean paid in cash and, while he didn't apologize to Chuck for the previous outburst, he did go out of his way to be amiable to the young man during the transaction. Sam half-expected Dean to bail with a quick farewell when he was finished. Instead, he waited while Sam made his purchase, surreptitiously surveying the few items Sam had been able to locate.

They walked out of the store together, Sam thankful he'd decided to park in the general direction of the Impala.  
"Hey, Sam?" Dean asked voice tentative. "You, ah, you got plans for dinner tonight?"

Sam hoped the surprise he felt did not show on his face. He tried to sound casual and curious at the same time. "No, not really. Hang out, maybe catch the game."

Sam watched out of the corner of his eye as Dean nodded thoughtfully, and then seemed to come to some decision. 

"Why don't you join us?" Dean asked. 

“Are you sure?” Sam asked, doing his best to sound uncertain rather than hopeful, “I’d hate to impose.”  
He _so_ wanted to impose.

"Nonsense," Dean declared. "How long has it been since you've had a decent home cooked meal with all the fixin's? You look like you’re still eating dorm food, college boy." He said with a grin indicating the single bag of food Sam was carrying.

Sam was momentarily startled by the familiarity and remained speechless.

"See,” Dean said, hitting him lightly in the chest with the back of his hand, “you can't even remember the last time. Five o' clock sound good?"

"Ah..." 

"I'll pick you up,” Dean continued, and then added, "Oh, I probably should mention that I'm not doing the cooking." He smiled, content to keep any other details to himself. "Not that I can't cook," he added as an after thought.  


The issue appeared to be settled as far as Dean was concerned, so maybe it was out of politeness that he asked, "You're coming, right?"

Sam quirked a curious brow at Dean's grin, reminding himself that Dean had no idea that he already knew that the two joined Olivia on Sunday evenings for dinner. Sam decided he'd stalled long enough. There really was only one answer to Dean's question. 

"I'd love to."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bedtime story Dean mentioned is a book written by Laura Joffe Numeroff. It was my daughters favorite (and mine)once upon a time and is called ‘If You Give A Moose A Muffin’** Also - Chuck is just Chuck. Nothing to do with the prophet...or whoever he was. This chapter was written long before Show had a Chuck :)


	4. Dinner and a Headache

What Sam had assumed would be a long afternoon actually progressed fairly quickly. The syllabus for his psych class had been predetermined by his predecessor, but as he studied the course objectives he realized that it would be easy to tailor it to his own style of teaching. 

It wouldn’t be his first teaching gig, but he was excited about it nonetheless. The introductory class was well beneath his abilities and qualifications, but it offered him a chance to prove himself to the powers that be and would require a minimum of prep time in terms of lesson plans. That, in itself, was a plus – as it shouldn’t interfere at all with his plans to slowly work his way into Dean and Isabella’s lives.

Despite the vague uncertainty of both his teaching status at the university and his relationship with Dean, Sam couldn’t help but be pleased at how things were progressing. For two days a week he would be doing something that he loved to do and for three mornings per week he would be spending time with Dean - the person he loved most in the world. Small steps, but steps in the right direction nonetheless. 

Having showered and dressed in his best that morning, Sam filled his last few minutes of waiting by washing his face, brushing his teeth and applying the smallest dab of cologne to the base of his throat. The scent reminded him fondly, but fleetingly of Jess. She had given it to him as a gift on the one and only Christmas they had shared as a couple. She loved to stand on her tip toes and bury her face in the crook of his neck whenever he wore it. The bottle was small and ridiculously expensive so Sam tended to save it for special occasions. His first dinner with Dean in over five years certainly qualified as far as he was concerned. 

At ten minutes past five, Sam was still patiently waiting. Dean was late. _Surprise, surprise._ Apparently some things never changed. Dean was many things - but punctual had never been one of them. It used to annoy the hell out of Sam. Not so much now, he thought as he quirked a small smile. Funny how losing someone could suddenly transform their most irritating habits into wonderfully endearing quirks. It was another five minutes before he heard the familiar rumble of the Impala and Dean finally pulled into the motel parking lot. 

"Hey,” he and Dean spoke in unison as he slipped into the front seat. Sam noticed that his brother had opted for comfort and changed into a faded pair of blue jeans and a black t-shirt. He turned to address Isabella, who had also donned more casual attire. 

"Hi, Sweetie," he said and watched as she tipped her head, eyes narrowing the tiniest bit, no doubt deciding if the familiarity was going to be allowed.

It was so indicative of Dean that Sam was once again filled with wonder at her mere existence. "How you doin', Spooky?" Sam acknowledged the small kitten in her grasp. 

This earned him a bright smile as Isabella held the cat up for inspection. Spooky was now sporting a red harness, which wasn't totally surprising given his wandering ways, but the matching red ribbon barrettes at each ear had Sam at a loss for words.

"Isn't he pretty?" Isabella asked expectantly.

"Ah..." Sam looked to Dean as he groped for the right thing to say, and found no help there.

"Don't ask,” Dean said with a small head shake, though his affection and amusement were obvious. "Just be glad I didn’t have any red fingernail polish on hand or you’d have been waiting another fifteen minutes.” 

"Yeah,” Sam brought his focus back to Isabella, "Sure." Then when it appeared she was studying him to gauge his sincerity he added, "Red is definitely Spooky's color." 

That, it appeared, was the perfect thing to say. Extremely proud and pleased at the proclamation, Isabella gave an authorative little nod that could only indicate she had known this all along. Man, she was cute. Up to this point, Sam’s affection for Isabella was based solely on the fact that she was Dean's child. That was slowly beginning to change. The more time he spent in Isabella's company, the more he grew to enjoy her for herself.

Olivia lived on the outskirts of town, just a few miles beyond Walkers. Thankfully, the relatively brief ride didn't allow for much in the way of awkward silences. Sam really didn't think he could take that. Just the fact that he was sitting here in the Impala making what amounted to small talk with his brother was surreal enough in itself. 

As they parked Sam cocked an eyebrow at Dean. _Where are we?_ He wasn't supposed to know where they were going of course and since they had already met in front of Dean's home, he knew this wasn't it. Dean smiled and gave a nod towards the house. _Trust me._ That part was easy. Sam waited as Dean helped Isabella out of her seat and trailed behind them to the door. Dean entered without knocking and despite the fact that someone very obviously was home, he called out, "Anyone home? We've got company."

Isabella took off at a trot towards what Sam assumed was the kitchen. A warm wonderful smell enveloped him and Sam actually felt his stomach rumble in anticipation. He followed Dean in the same direction Isabella had disappeared and heard Olivia's exclamation of delight at Spooky's makeover.   
Olivia was kneeling before Isabella when they entered. Her eyes met Dean's and widened as they skipped to Sam. Olivia looked surprised, but extremely pleased as she got to her feet. She made her way to Dean, placing a hand on his shoulder as he automatically bowed his head, allowing her to kiss him on the cheek.

"And who is this?" She asked focusing her attention on Sam, who was still amazed that Dean allowed such open and public displays of affection.

Dean turned to him saying,”I’d like you to meet my mother-in-law, Olivia Walker." He then turned to Olivia. "This is Sam...." Dean seemed to suddenly realize he didn't know Sam's last name.

"Winchester,” Sam supplied.

"Welcome, Sam." Olivia stepped forward and took his hand, smiling sincerely as she looked up at him. Sam had the feeling that she was very pleased by his presence but was deliberately toning it down for Dean's sake. She looked at him for a minute before recognition set in. "You go to our church, don't you?"

Sam nodded, warmed by her friendly demeanor. "Pleasure to meet you ma’am." She had let go of his hand at this point and glanced over at a smirking but silent Dean.

"Ma’am?" She repeated, clearly not happy with that. "Oh, no. I'm afraid that won’t do at all. No one calls me ma’am.” Then she amended with a playful smile, “Except those little heathens at the market who bag my groceries.” 

She waved her hand dismissively. "Call me Liv,” she said, adding with emphasis, “please.”

"You got it,” Sam agreed with a smile, "Liv."

The stovetop was bubbling and boiling with a variety of dishes, one of which was about to simmer over.

"Dean, honey, can you turn the heat on that back burner down?" Liv asked, still gazing at Sam.

As Dean turned to comply, Sam caught the twinkle in his eye. "Sure thing, ma’am."

Olivia rolled her eyes, but was obviously amused by his behavior. "Now look what you've started." Sam had a feeling he'd gotten points for being the source of Dean's mischief.

"Sure thing ma’am,” Isabella repeated Dean's words, picking up on the playful commentary. Stepping around Spooky to open the ‘fridge, Dean laughed out loud. It was music to Sam’s ears.

"Oh, not you too, Bella." Liv looked down at her granddaughter in mock disappointment, which only caused Isabella to giggle all the more.

Dean grabbed a bottle of beer and tipped it in Sam's direction. At Sam’s affirming nod, Dean retrieved one for himself as well.

"Okay, boys, unless you want to be put to work, time to clear out." As Liv moved by Sam in search of a serving dish she looked up at him. She was 5'3" to his 6'4" frame.

"Good Lord,” she exclaimed. "What does your mother feed you?"

Sam chuckled good naturedly and tried to move out of her way but something in his eyes must have caught her attention. Liv's gaze sharpened. She was observant, that one. He was going to have to be careful around her.

"Game's on in the other room,” Liv said, rooting around in the cupboard for her platter. "Last I heard, the Sox were down by one." It was a dismissal if he ever heard one. "It'll be another twenty minutes before dinner's ready."

Dean didn't have to be told twice. After handing Sam his beer they both retreated to the living room where they spent the next fifteen minutes or so discussing the unpredictability that was the Boston Red Sox. Dean watched the game. Sam watched Dean.

Isabella drifted back and forth between Dean and Liv until she decided that Spooky was in need of a trip outside in lieu of an available litter box. With Dean's consent she slipped out the sliding glass doors to the patio. The large backyard was completely enclosed by a six foot fence and was just as meticulously kept as the front of the home. Two large trees bisected the area – one was a weeping willow towards the far end with thin drooping branches swaying gently in the mild breeze. The other was closer to the center of the yard and shaded a picnic table. From his seat, Sam could see a portion of a swing set and various toys for riding or tossing that sprinkled the lawn.

Sam noticed that Dean's gaze flickered out to Isabella every few minutes. It appeared to be out of habit more than anything, as from what Sam could see, the yard was completely secure. It reminded him of the way Dean always watched out for him – and how much he had taken for granted and been oblivious to.

At the bottom of the seventh inning, the Red Sox managed a run that tied up the game. With the bases loaded, it offered a distraction too compelling to ignore. When Liv popped in a few minutes later in search of Isabella to help set the table, Dean was so engrossed in the game that she had to ask him twice where she had wandered off to. She shared a quick glance with Sam, not bothering to hide her affection.

Liv paused at the patio doors, surveying the yard. "Are you sure Bella went outside? I don't see her." 

Sam marveled at the response in Dean at those words, as if a switch had been flipped. He was up and at Liv's side within seconds, eyes scanning the back yard. Sam followed them both outside in search of Isabella. Liv's startled gasp had them joining her at the picnic table.

"Isabella Louise Matthews,” Liv’s voice was slightly panicked, “what in heaven's name are you doing in that tree?"

The answer soon became obvious with Spooky's pitiful mewl. Isabella was about fifteen feet above Sam's head and Spooky was another five above that. Dean had already hopped up on to the picnic table and was surprisingly calm.

"Isabella,” his voice commanded her attention in a way Liv's had not. She stopped climbing and looked down at him. Sam may have been mistaken but it almost seemed as if the child was actually a little irritated at the interruption.

"Spooky's stuck,” she said as if that explained everything.

"Spooky's fine,” Dean assured her. "I need you to come back down, darlin'."

"But..." she started. Dean wasn't in the mood for a debate.

"Now Isabella."

Sam had heard that tone before. Unconsciously, he straightened his spine. Isabella responded immediately, recognizing in Dean's voice the futility in pleading her case further. She looked around and then down, face growing suddenly uncertain. So focused on her attempt to reach Spooky, Isabella hadn't even considered how she would get back down.

"You're fine,” Dean saw the change in her expression, his voice confident and soothing. "You're going to climb back down the same way you went up."   
Isabella looked doubtful, “I can't."

"Yes, you can." Dean's calmness was reflected in his voice. "Just listen to Daddy's voice. I want you to find a place to put your right foot."   
Isabella hesitated but did as she was told.

"Your other right, darlin’,” Dean interjected before she could over extend her left foot.

She made a little noise that brought Liv's hand to the base of her throat.

It was a tense few minutes as Isabella slowly made her way down. Sam realized as she climbed that she was a natural; testing each limb and toe-hold to make sure it was secure before letting it take her full weight. She did exactly what Dean told her to do, when he told her to do it. If by some chance she did manage to fall, she never would have hit the ground: Dean was ready to catch her at any point.

The drama with Isabella distracted Spooky from his own predicament. He watched her descent silently. When Isabella was within arms reach of Dean she launched herself at him. 

"I did it!" She shouted proudly as he caught her. Dean returned her hug and congratulated her. "See, I told you, you could do it."

"But,” he added, turning serious as she pulled away, “you are never to do that again without asking Daddy. Do you understand?"

"But, I had to get Spooky,” Isabella countered.

"Do. You. Understand?" Dean drew her gaze when she would have looked up at the cat, unwilling to allow any deflection.

She had a hard time keeping his gaze, and she chose to nod rather than answer.

Dean softened his voice a little at that, but remained serious. "Spooky may have nine lives, but Izzy B’s only get one. You need to be careful."

She nodded again and Dean put her down on the picnic table. Isabella's feet had barely touched the surface when Liv lifted her into her arms. Liv looked into her granddaughter’s little face and just shook her head in exasperation. Hugging her again she met Dean's eyes over Isabella's shoulder, content to let his word be the last on the subject.

Spooky chose that moment to remind everyone of his precarious position. Unlike Isabella, the kitten seemed to be absolutely terrified of heights and was visibly trembling, clinging to his limb for dear life.

"Oh,” Isabella’s distress mirrored Liv's from only moments before.

Dean tried his best to coax the frightened cat down, but Spooky refused to budge. The look Dean gave Sam indicated he would be perfectly fine leaving the little troublemaker where he was. If it weren't for the fact that Isabella would likely be beside herself if he did, Sam was pretty sure Dean would have left him there, at least until after dinner.

It was easy to see where Isabella had started her climb. There were some very good foot holds within reach once the child climbed atop the table. Dean bypassed those and launched himself off the table to catch an overhead branch. He caught another with his feet and used his momentum to push upward. Sam decidedly ignored the golden expanse of belly revealed as Dean’s shirt rode up during his climb. It was completely insane how erotic he found both the movement and the glimpse of skin it exposed. The warm spot it lit within him refused to be dimmed, despite the inappropriate timing.

Liv wasn’t as animated in her concern with Dean doing the climbing, but nearly so. Isabella wasn’t faring much better, but all her concern seemed to be for Spooky. The cat refused to budge and Dean was forced to pry his little claws from the branch. Spooky responded by finding the next available surface to sink them into. Dean hissed as the cat scurried up his arm and onto an adjacent limb. Sam knew his brother was getting irritated when he saw the tilt and tightening of Dean’s jaw.

Removing his outer shirt, Sam hopped up onto the picnic table and got Dean’s attention. “Here, try this.” Rolling the shirt into a tight ball he tossed it to Dean.

"Perfect,” Dean said as he caught it.

Spooky wasn’t all that keen on the idea at all and continued to struggle as Dean tucked him into the shirt and wrapped it loosely around him. Dean waited until the kitten stilled before cradling him in one arm and beginning his descent. 

Liv placed Isabella on the ground and was kneeling next to her as Dean joined them and went to his knees in front of her. Spooky was none the worse for wear - despite his wild-eyed look as Dean unwrapped him and carefully placed him in Isabella's arms. She met his gaze and the look in her eyes said it all.

_My hero._

Dean smiled at her, loving and gentle. It nearly took Sam's breath away. It was a brief, beautiful moment that inadvertently excluded everyone. Sam felt something within him tremble at the realization. He had shared that with Dean once. He knew this was different, that it would naturally be so between parent and child, but at the same time he couldn't help but mourn the loss. Sam wanted that connection with his brother back so badly that it was a near physical ache.

Dean rose to his feet, completely oblivious to Sam's inner emo moment, and declared, "I'm starving." Then with a hand to Sam's shoulder said, "Let's eat."

Since most of the dishes had to be reheated, dinner turned out to be a coordinated group effort. While Liv warmed the side dishes in the microwave Sam set the table in the dining room. Dean poured everyone a drink and then made sure Isabella had a final trip to the bathroom before being seated. Sam transferred the last of the food to the table as Liv made up a plate for Isabella – cutting all of her food into tiny bite-sized portions.

There was a pause as they took their seats. Sam sat across from Isabella with Dean and Liv on either side of him. “Okay,” Liv said holding her hands out to both Sam and Isabella. Sam took her hand in his right and Dean’s in his left. “Sam?” She questioned softly. “Would you like to say grace?”

He wasn’t totally surprised at the request, being a guest and all. Just as he was about to respond, Isabella piped in with, “It’s my turn.”

“Izzy B.”

"Bella."

Dean and Liv spoke at the same time. Sam could tell that a lesson in proper guest etiquette was likely to follow.

“It’s okay,” he said, “Really.” In deference to him, and in all probability, assuming that he was uncomfortable with the request both subsided. “Go ahead, sweetie,” he said to Isabella.

“Dear, God…”

The corner of Sam’s mouth quirked slowly upward as Isabella went on to thank God for pretty much anything that crossed her mind, everything except for the food before her, that is. Eyes closed and head bowed, Sam listened but let his attention drift to Dean’s hand. Settled lightly within his, wrist resting against the table, Sam fought the urge to run his thumb over the top of Dean’s fingers or give the solid warmth a squeeze.

He chanced a glance out of the corner of his eye as he felt his brother fidget. Dean was regarding Isabella with amusement, but clearly searching for an appropriate time to interject. His opportunity came as she took a breath. He coughed politely and caught her attention, reminding her to actually bless the food. Sam had another moment of pure affection for her when she actually managed to look sheepish.

His smile garnered her attention and inspired a final acknowledgment once the food was blessed. “And thank you God for Daddy’s new friend, Sam. Amen.”

“Amen.” Dean and Liv chimed in.

Dinner consisted of baked chicken and potatoes, an assortment of colorful steamed vegetables and homemade, whole wheat dinner rolls. Sam was reminded of the obituary he'd read for Liv's husband Ramsey and suspected that this heart-healthy style of cooking was a direct result of having lost a loved one to the clogged arteries of a heart attack.

Sam fought the urge to shake his head as Dean drowned everything on his plate in butter – obliterating as much nutritive content as possible. Some things never changed. Liv didn't bother to hide her exasperation, mild as it was. "Dean, honey, the butter is not a side dish."

"Hmmm?" Dean paused around a mouthful of the roll he had buttered to perfection. She smiled at him and shook her head, letting it go and, sharing a, _what can you do?_ shrug with Sam.

The meal was delicious and Sam said so, more than once. Liv beamed under the praise, much like Dean had when Sam complimented the Impala. The more everyone ate, the more pleased she seemed to be. In between the bartering with Isabella to eat more of her vegetables if she wanted more chicken, much of the conversation, at first, revolved around Sam.

Liv, more so than Dean, was curious about his family and where he grew up. Having lived her whole life in the area she was convinced she should at least know who his family was, if not know them personally. In preparation for the inevitable questions, Sam had taken the time to establish a convincing back story. It wouldn't withstand intense scrutiny - but he was banking on the fact that Liv was polite enough not to delve too deeply.

Most of her questions were general in nature and he responded in kind. He suspected as they got to know each other better that would change - but for now it suited his purposes fine. Despite his cover story, Sam did his best to stick to the truth as much as possible. It would lessen the chance of tripping up later. 

"Where is your family now?" Liv asked.

"There's just me, my dad and my brother." Sam saw Liv's eyes narrow in interest at the omission of his mother but he'd already decided now was not the time to discuss that. "My dad's on the road a lot with his work. Never in one place very long."

"And you and your brother? Are you close?" Sam resisted the urge to glance at Dean who had grown noticeably quiet as the discussion progressed. Instead, he looked down.

"We were once." Sam heard the regret in his voice, knew Liv did too when he met her gaze. "We sort of lost touch when I left for Stanford." 

"Stanford?" Liv said, impressed.

"Can I have some more milk?" Isabella interrupted.

Liv checked her plate over. Apparently pleased with the amount of food she'd eaten she tapped Isabella on the nose and said, "Yes, you may. Would anyone else like...?"

Sam looked up from his food when she paused, head snapping to his brother. "Dean, honey, are you okay?"

Dean didn't answer at first. Elbows on the table, food half eaten, he was massaging his temples with the tips of his fingers.

"Dean?" Liv tried again. He opened his eyes, corners still pulled back in pain. "Yeah,” Dean sounded surprised to be the sudden focus of attention. "Just a headache. I didn't sleep all that well last night…" He tried to smile. "Guess it finally caught up with me."

Liv eyed him critically before getting up to get Isabella's milk. Dean made an attempt to go back to his meal but ended up just pushing the food around on his plate. 

"Hey,” Concerned when Dean brought the heel of his hands to his eyes, Sam reached for him, hand settling lightly on his bicep. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Fine,” Dean finally answered. "I'm fine. I just get..." He paused to take some deep, measured breaths. "... headaches sometimes." Dean’s voice grew softer with each word. 

Liv returned with a cup of milk that she placed in front of Isabella and a bottle of Tylenol.

"Here,” She popped the cap off the bottle and stood next to Dean, "How many do you need, Hon?"

Dean took the bottle and dumped its contents into his hand. Sam frowned and Liv looked more than a little alarmed when Dean tossed them all into his mouth, chewing them up like candy. Sam figured there had to have been anywhere between six and eight tablets. Dean barely grimaced at the taste. Liv did it for him, shuddering in empathy as she reached for his water.

"Drink this." She held a glass to his lips. Eyes closed, Dean took several small sips. Once he was finished he carefully cradled his head in his hands, shoulders relaxing minimally. Offering the only comfort she could, Liv ran a hand over Dean’s hair and down to the nape of his neck. “You’re okay,” Liv assured and Sam was reminded of Dean’s soothing words to Isabella in the tree. “Give it time to work. You’ll be just fine.” Sam got the impression that Liv had done this before. He felt his own worry increase. 

As the tension in Dean’s body began to slowly ease, Liv returned to her seat. She did her best to return dinner to some semblance of normalcy. Sam played along, allowing Dean the recovery time he needed. 

"So, Stanford?" Liv prompted Sam quietly. He reluctantly brought his focus back to her.

Sam shared how he'd started out pre-law until he'd stumbled across his love for teaching completely by accident. While his academics at Stanford were paid for, little else was. He learned quickly that he would have to work in order to survive. He’d done everything from washing dishes at an on-campus cafe to a very brief stint at a reputable escort service. It was during his sophomore year that his friend Dave turned him on to the three night training course that would certify him as a substitute teacher. He wasn’t overly enthusiastic about it at first. Any work he got would be call-in, very last minute, and would have to come second to his own classes. Sam wanted something more predictable. Eventually, though, he’d let Dave talk him into it. It was a decision that changed the course of his life. 

Both Sam and Liv kept their voices low but neither could avoid the frequent and concerned glances in Dean's direction. Isabella had finished her meal, and with Liv's prompting was quietly playing with Spooky on the dining room floor. Liv urged Sam to continue. 

The first two times Sam had been called in to sub, he'd had to decline due to a scheduling conflict. He thought for sure that he’d be blacklisted after that and never get another call. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case. It was a complete stroke of luck that the local high schools and the university did not share the same vacations during the academic year. Sam ended up doing a full week of subbing during his winter break. And at $75.00 per day was grateful to do it. It was during that time Sam discovered not only that he loved what he was doing, but that he was truly gifted when it came to connecting with his students. He managed to capture their attention and engage their minds, surprising himself in the process of doing so. His natural talent did not go unnoticed. After that, he was placed at the top of the call in list and got first dibs on any extended gigs, such as vacations and medical leaves. That same year he was offered his first regular teaching position for the extended summer school session. 

"I changed my major the next semester,” he didn't bother to add that it was against the advice of his advisor. 

"Thank God,” Dean’s voice was sand paper rough as he finally joined the conversation, eyes still closed. "Like the world needs more lawyers."

The comment surprised a laugh out of Sam and he saw Dean wince at the sound. He'd assumed his brother was in too much pain to be following the conversation. Dean took a few deep breaths and held himself carefully but eventually took note of the plate of food sitting in front of him. When he picked up his fork and showed some remote interest in finishing his meal, Liv was up and moving.

"Let me heat that up for you, hon." 

She was out of the dining room with his plate before Dean could say anything one way or another. Sam noticed Dean's response time was still a little slow but he seemed to be coming back to himself.

"You okay?" Sam asked. To his surprise Dean looked embarrassed rather than defensive.

"Yeah,” Dean met his gaze briefly, but let it slide back down to the table. "Sorry about that. Dinner's not usually so dramatic 'round here." He smiled, but it was a pale imitation of his usual charm.

Sam fought the urge to lift that chin, to make Dean meet his gaze. He wanted so badly to offer some form of comfort. Unable to he instead asked, "You get headaches like that often?"

Dean did look up then, gauging whether or not he wanted this to be any of Sam's business. 

"Not like that,” Dean said, and Sam felt himself exhale, grateful for the trust. "Not in a very long time."

"Here we go." Liv breezed back in and set a steaming plate of food in front of Dean. "Can I get you something else, Sam?"

"Ah,” Her sudden attention caught him off guard. "No, thank you. I'm good." Then in his most sincere voice he added, “Dinner was delicious but I'm absolutely stuffed. Couldn't eat another bite." He gave a pat to his stomach.

The pleased look on her face told him he couldn't have given her a better compliment. Liv surprised him again when she ran a hand over his shoulder in passing on the way back to her seat. 

Dean dug into his meal with surprising enthusiasm, his appetite no worse for the wear apparently. Not the least bit self conscious to be the only one eating; he was also totally oblivious to the separate but similar looks of affection he was receiving from both Liv and Sam.

"So, Sam,” Dean said around a mouthful of baked potato, still focused on the food in front of him. "You ready to get your hands dirty tomorrow?"

"Oh, that's right,” Liv sounded surprised she had forgotten, “you'll be joining us at the garage tomorrow."

"Looking forward to it,” Sam said truthfully.

"You know cars?" Liv asked carefully. Sam was very aware that he didn't look the part of your average mechanic.

"Some," he replied, then admitted much as he had to Dean. "Not much. It's been awhile."

"Don't worry. It'll all come back to you. Rand will walk you through the first few oil changes, show you the basics and start you off slow with something simple." Dean thought about it. "I've got a couple of front end alignments that should be fairly straight forward. You up for that?"

Sam was stuck on one word. "Rand?"

"Rand Bellanger,” Liv explained. "He handles all the maintenance and low-end repairs. Dean here does the body work, engine rebuilds and all the custom orders." 

"Oh,” Sam said to Dean, unable to hide his disappointment. "I guess I just assumed that I would be working with you."

Dean wasn't completely unaffected by the little brother tone. He stopped chewing, eyes searching Sam's face. "You will be,” he assured, then pointed out, "we're a small operation. We all work together."

Sam relaxed as Liv nodded, though he missed her curious back and forth glance between the two of them. Despite his attempt to do so, Dean was unable to clean his plate. When he pushed it away, Liv rose to take care of it. The ease and efficiency with which she cleared the table would put all but the finest waitresses to shame.

"Coffee anyone?" She called from the kitchen, peeking into the dining room long enough to catch their nods. Within minutes she returned carrying a small tray of spoons, sugar and creamer. Dean stood and offered her his seat.

Surprised, she looked at him. "Dean, honey, you have company. I can..." 

"You know the drill, ma’am,” he said, all charm and twinkle once again. "You cook, we clean." 

Liv really looked as if she'd argue the point, but Dean didn't give her a chance.

"Isn't that right, Izzy B?" Dean had stopped next to Isabella and held a hand out to her.

"Sure thing, ma’am,” she repeated from earlier as she took Dean's hand, oblivious to his smirk in Liv's direction.

"Oh, all right,” Liv waved her hands in dismissal, but father and daughter were already on their way to the kitchen. She sat down next to Sam with an amused huff of air. "Those two..." 

She didn't elaborate, but really had no need to. Her affection for both of them couldn't have been more obvious. From the dining room, they had a good view of the right side of the kitchen where the sink was. Sam watched the two of them load the dishwasher together then Isabella disappeared from sight. She returned seconds later with a folding step-stool that Dean set up for her in front of the sink to wash the pots and pans and anything else that wouldn't fit in the dishwasher. Through it all there was a constant stream of chatter and banter that just wrapped itself around Sam's heart.

"They really are peas in a pod, those two,” Liv said. Sam hadn't realized how quiet he'd become. Reluctantly, he returned his attention to his host. "Daddy's girl through and through, that one. Always has been."

"Really?" Sam was genuinely surprised and undeniably curious. He didn't take Liv for the chatterbox she was turning into. She must have really needed to talk. He seemed to have that effect on people.

"From the moment Bella was born, she and Dean just had this connection. I remember the nurse placing her in Dean's arms and she was just squawking up a storm." She laughed at the memory. 

"When she heard his voice, she stopped crying and opened her eyes." Liv gave a soft sigh. "They just looked at each other for the longest time. Eyes filled with such sweet wonder..."

Sam was watching her closely, hanging on every word.

"I'm sorry,” Liv blinked away the sudden nostalgia. "You don't want to hear..."

"It's fine, really." Sam interrupted before she could finish. He did want. He wanted to hear everything. "Go on."

They heard giggles from the kitchen as Dean and Isabella splashed their way through the last of the serving bowls. Dean looked down just as Isabella looked up, the bond between them nearly tangible. It lasted mere seconds, but would forever be a frozen snapshot in Sam's head. 

"I used to watch Jenna when Dean and Bella were together." Sam realized that Liv just assumed that he was aware of the tragedy surrounding her daughter’s death. "They had a tendency to drift off into a realm all their own and block everyone else out. Even Jenna at times."

Liv gave a wry smile and switched gears a little. "It didn't seem to bother Jenna, though, she encouraged it, in fact. I wasn’t always able to do that."

Sam quirked a brow, confused. 

"Jenna knew what it was like to grow up in her daddy's back pocket,” Liv explained. "She was his baby, his world. And the feeling was mutual. As far as Jenna was concerned, the sun rose and set with Ramsey Walker."

Liv paused and they shared a smile as Isabella's happy chatter floated in from the kitchen.

"It was hard sometimes, being the one on the outside. They never deliberately excluded me, of course. I don't even think they were aware of it."

She gave Sam an apologetic glance, realizing suddenly that she was going on and on to a virtual stranger. He met her gaze with sympathy.   
"I wasn't jealous so much as envious,” she admitted.

"I thought just because I'd brought that beautiful baby girl into the world that it would be her and I that shared the connection, you know?"

Sam nodded when she looked at him.

"I guess it just wasn't meant to be."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked when it appeared Liv wasn't going to elaborate.

"From the time my Jenna could walk, she began to assert her independence. She was willful and stubborn - even at that age. I think she resented my authority from the beginning." Eyes sad, she met Sam's gaze. "My daughter and I had a very tumultuous relationship."

"That must have been rough." Sam empathized.

Liv nodded and then really looked at him, "Do you have any idea what it's like to love someone so much and not know how to talk to them? To try to understand where they're coming from and just never seem to get it right?"

Sam's thoughts turned to John. _Yeah, I think I do._

Any response he could have made was preempted as Dean entered the dining room with a pot of coffee in one hand and three mugs in the other. He paused, a curious brow arching, sensing he may have interrupted, "Coffee?"

Topic effectively ended, Liv smiled and said, "I would love some coffee, hon."

Isabella joined them as he filled each mug. When Dean would have returned to the kitchen, Liv bade him to sit down. "Bella and I have a surprise. Hope you saved room for dessert." 

Sam shrugged when Dean looked to him for a clue. Isabella returned, carefully balancing her surprise. Liv followed closely with dishes and silverware.  
Dean's face lit up. "Tell me that's not what I think it is."

"It's your favorite, Daddy." Isabella said proudly. "Apple pie."

Dean looked at her as if he was suddenly reminded of just how much he loved her.

"My best girl and my favorite dessert. What more could I ask for?"

The gaze they shared was split second, but it excluded everyone. Sam and Liv exchanged a knowing and accepting glance.

"Oh. Mmmmm,” Sam could tell that Dean's making over the pie was not just for Isabella's sake. There was pure genuine pleasure on his face as he took that first bite. 

The pie was delicious, but Dean's enjoyment of it made it all the better, for everyone. Liv didn't bother to hide her fond amusement. Sam envied her that. Chin perched in her hand she watched him savor each and every bite, pausing now and then to take a sip of her coffee. Sam was less obvious about it, but just as taken. He'd never really appreciated Dean's ability to enjoy the simple things in life. Until now. He savored the moment, as Dean did his apple pie. 

It was nearly eight o'clock by the time they finished. The lateness of the hour was showing in Isabella as she slowly wound down and became less and less talkative. She curled up on the sofa with Spooky as Sam and Dean finished their coffee. After a short absence, Liv returned to the dining room with an array of leftovers in plastic containers. This was par for the course, apparently, as Dean didn't seem the least bit surprised. The remainder of the pie was also plastic wrapped and sat atop the stack of containers.

Dean looked at the food in his hands and then over at Isabella. He came to the same conclusion Sam did. He was going to have to carry her.

"I'll be right back," he said to Sam, running his leftovers out to the Impala.

Liv reappeared with another set of containers that she handed to Sam. He looked down at her, surprised. She just smiled. Dean returned, scooping up both Isabella and Spooky. Both thanked her for dinner and paused for a kiss. 

"'Night, Gramma,” Isabella said over Dean's shoulder, not long for the world of the waking. 

"Goodnight, love. Sleep well." Liv said softly, sharing a smile with Dean as he departed. 

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Sam." She stood on the tip of her toes, hand on his arm, intent obvious. He had no choice but to lean forward so she could kiss his cheek. "I hope you'll be joining us again." 

"I hope so, too," he responded in all sincerity, touched by her warmth and welcoming nature. He could tell there was more she wanted to say when she didn't release his arm. 

"You're the first person he's reached out to since Jenna died, Sam." Liv confided. "He likes you."

_Please don't betray that trust._ He could see the plea in her eyes. 

Never. Sam found he couldn't respond. Touched by this woman's love for his brother, he responded by kissing her back in kind. It was the only promise he could give. Her hand went to her cheek in surprise. Whatever she saw in his eyes satisfied her.

"I'll see you in the morning, Sam."

Isabella was asleep in her car seat by the time they reached his motel. Dean was quiet during the ride, hand occasionally straying to his temple. Concerned, Sam watched him from the corner of his eye for the remainder of the short ride. It was fully dark by the time they pulled into the motel parking lot. 

"Thanks for the invite, man. You were right. Best meal I've had in a long time,” Sam said.

Dean opened his mouth to respond, and then winced in pain, hand going back to his head.

"Hey,” Sam lowered his voice. "You sure you're okay."

"Just...tired." Dean said, giving him an apologetic glance. "It's been a long day. Sorry for the drama show."

Sam dismissed the apology with a shake of his head, but allowed his concern to remain. "Get some sleep, okay."

"First thing on the agenda after getting Miss Izzy B to bed." Dean gave a nod to the backseat.

As Sam opened the door and gathered his things, Dean offered a gentle reminder. "See you tomorrow?"

"Bright and early,” Sam confirmed.

"Need a ride?" Dean asked. They could carpool as the motel was on the way to Walker's. Still in the mindset of taking things slowly, Sam declined. "I'm good, thanks. I'll meet you there." 

Dean nodded. "G'night, Sam." 

"Night, Dean." 

The door closed with a creak and Sam watched as the Impala disappeared into the night. He stood there until he could no longer hear the rumbled purr, suddenly haunted by John’s words. 

_Be careful with him, Sam. There’s no telling how his subconscious will respond to you._

Sam closed his eyes. The last thing he wanted to do was cause Dean pain, but he couldn’t help but feel encouraged. The connection they had was still there. Tenuous, but there. On some level, Dean remembered him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent way too much deciding on what kind of pie would be Dean's favorite. I dismissed Apple simply because its not my fave. Dean kept coming back to it though, and I decided it fit. It's a classic...kinda like the Impala of pies :)


	5. A Lover not a Fighter

Sam had always known that Dean was good with cars. It was something taken for granted years ago. He’d just never put much thought into the details behind that knowledge. 

Until now. 

Sam's first week of employment at Walker's had been an eye-opener in more ways than one. Not only had he underestimated the skill required for often intricate engine and body work, he'd had no idea the amount of time it took to repair or replace even the most basic of parts. And really, how could he, having never owned a vehicle of his own. For as long as he could remember any work that needed to be done on the Impala had been done by John or Bobby until Dean was capable enough to completely take over. 

There was so much more to it than he'd ever imagined, and a lot of it was time consuming. Sam soon discovered that oil changes and basic maintenance work ended up having relatively predictable timeframes. Both were pretty straight forward and had set rates and services charges, barring any unforeseen complications. Most other jobs were by the hour, and time certainly was money at a service rate of $70 per hour. 

Inspections could be a bit more unpredictable and depended on the condition of the vehicle. Over the course of the week, Rand worked with Sam on what to look for when assessing a pass/fail. It was a relatively simple checklist that Rand had down to a fifteen minute science. As a licensed mechanic, Rand would still make the final call, but Dean felt it would be a good way for Sam to familiarize himself with the various makes of vehicles. 

While appointments were preferable, customers often tended to just drop by for inspections. Sam found that Dean did his best not to turn people away, no matter how busy or full the day already was. His brother watched him quietly, off to one side, as Sam did his first solo check. Feeling a bit self-conscious, he took longer than was perhaps necessary, but was unaccountably pleased when Dean gave him a slight nod of approval and walked away - leaving Sam to complete the transaction on his own.

Seven out of ten vehicles passed inspection with no problems. Those that did not required a once over by Rand and then an appointment for any necessary work. If someone was in a real pucker, a referral to another business wasn't entirely unheard of. Walker's had a steady stream of business and was currently booked up to two weeks in advance. Some were unwilling to wait. Others, Sam soon discovered, were loyal and regular customers.

The second week found Sam growing more comfortable in his new environment. His worry that he wouldn't be productive or knowledgeable enough to be of any real help was soon put to rest. A quick and determined study, he was an extra pair of hands that was all too often needed. In those rare moments when he didn't have a task set before him, Sam took the initiative to be of assistance wherever possible. He helped Liv with inventory, placed orders for parts, and did any number of little things that allowed Rand to focus solely on the day's work orders. 

Since Rand did mainly maintenance work, he had a good turnover in getting vehicles in and out. On the other hand, Dean could spend the entire day on one vehicle, but the work was often more involved, time consuming and, in Rand's own words, surpassed his knowledge. 

Sam was surprised to discover that Dean also had a select clientele of customers who specifically requested his services. Some, Rand informed him proudly, came from as far as four states away and set their appointments up months in advance in order to secure a spot in Dean's schedule. Most were involved in the classic and antique car shows that always seem to pop up during the summer months. Given that the owners of these rare and expensive vehicles tended to be very particular about who they allowed beneath their hoods, Sam could not help but be impressed…and proud.

Dean was definitely in his element at Walkers. He was confident and comfortable in a way that Sam had never witnessed before. Gone was the false bravado and cocky arrogance that so often was more for show than anything else. For the first time in a long time, Sam felt he was really seeing the man behind the mask, the brother he lost when Dad’s perfect little soldier took over. Dean had never truly abandoned him of course, but the nature of their relationship had changed as Sam became more and more capable of taking care of himself. 

And it had changed again when their feelings for each other took an unexpected and surprisingly intimate turn. 

They’d never acted on those feelings - never verbally spoken of them, but both were painfully aware and confused by them. Well, Sam was confused. He suspected somewhere along the way that Dean had come to terms with what he felt and was okay with it. 

Dean always saw things in black and white. He didn't complicate things with shades of gray the way Sam did. The way Sam knew he did. Just before he'd left for Stanford, Dean had finally said _something_ that indirectly acknowledged what was happening between them, and it only happened once. The comment was in regard to an odd situation they'd encountered in which an elderly woman had fallen in love with a nineteenth century businessman who was haunting her home. He had died peacefully in his sleep almost a hundred years prior, and for whatever reason, had been unable or unwilling to move on. 

The woman refused to have her home cleansed and threatened John with bodily harm if he so much as dared to set a foot back inside her house. At the time, Sam hadn't completely understood why. After all, how fulfilling could such a relationship really be? Dean's response had surprised him, _"If you’re lucky enough to find the other half of your soul in this whacked out world we live in, you do whatever it takes to hold on to them. Even if that means letting go of everything else you believe in."_

The quietly spoken words had resonated within him for years, but it was only in the last couple that he could actually feel them in his heart and truly recognize Dean as the other half of _his_ soul.

The irony that Dean no longer recognized him at all was not lost on him. 

He knew when he left for Stanford that Dean was in love with him, had also known that Dean would never act on those feelings unless Sam acknowledged them in some way. He couldn't do it. Not then - and not for along time after. He just wasn't ready. So he left, and Dean had let him go. 

Leaving wasn't a mistake, Sam knew that now. It was something that had to happen to get him to where he was now. When the time came for them to finally be together, and he believed that time would come, it had to be as equals. For that to happen, Sam had to break away - find his own way for a time. He understood that now. 

By God it had hurt like hell at the time, though.

"Sam!"

Startled, Sam blinked a couple of times. 

"Where were you, man?" Rand chuckled, "you were gone." 

Sam cleared his throat and straightened from where he was leaning against the wall watching Dean work. "Just thinking."

"Must be heavy duty. I've been trying to get your attention for the last two minutes." 

"Sorry," Sam apologized with a sheepish grin. 

"Got someone who stopped in during their lunch hour for an inspection. You mind taking it?" Rand asked.

Sam had finished his shift ten minutes before and had been waiting for Dean so they could hit the gym together. He looked over at his brother; denim-clad legs bent at the knee the only part of him visible beneath the vehicle he was working on. 

"Sure." 

Twenty minutes later, he was back at his post and Dean showed no signs of surfacing. Rand's wife arrived with lunch for the two of them and they chatted a bit while waiting for Dean. Rand was about John's age and had been doing this type of work for most of his adult life. He and his wife Tess had been married for 18 years and had no children. He had been hired by Ramsey Walker and worked with him for two years before his untimely death. 

It was clear that Rand was very fond of the entire Walker clan, but most especially of Dean. There was genuine affection and admiration in his voice whenever he spoke of him to Sam. From what Sam observed, Dean held Rand in similar regard. He sensed in each a faint echo of need for the father/son relationship that was denied them both. Sam couldn't help but wonder what John’s thoughts were on that. 

"What's everyone hanging around for?" Liv asked, appearing from the upstairs office. "It's lunch time." 

Everyone pointedly turned to look at Dean, still only visible from the waist down. Liv made her way to Tess and Rand. “Why don’t you two eat upstairs in my office,” she invited, “it’s much cooler.” While the garage itself was air conditioned, it was just too big to make much of a difference during the hottest part of the day. 

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Rand grabbed Tess’ hand and they disappeared up the stairs. 

Liv made her way over to Dean. Looking down at him, she shook her head fondly before using the point of her shoe to kick lightly at his boot. 

The muscles in Dean's legs tightened before the creeper he was lying on rolled free from under the car, where he was installing a new exhaust system. He quirked an eyebrow at Liv in question. 

"Lunch time," she said. Dean watched her mouth move and continued to look at her curiously.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Exasperated, Liv reached down and gave a tug on the tiny earphones attached to Dean's iPod. "It's time for lunch," she repeated. 

"Already?" Dean looked at his watch, clearly surprised by the time. Sam gave him a hand up and tried not to watch too closely as his brother worked his way through some stretches to loosen stiff muscles. 

"You still up for the gym, ¨ Dean asked. 

"Whenever you're ready,” Sam replied. He didn't have class today so the rest of the day was his. Originally the half days were meant so that Sam could job search in the afternoon. However, since that was no longer an issue he planned on discussing more hours with Dean. It was obvious that Walker’s was busy enough to need the extra hand. 

"Gym? Are you boys actually going to find time to eat lunch this time?" Liv paused on the way to her vehicle. 

"I'll grab something later,” Dean said moving to the sink to wash his hands. 

"Mmmm, hmmm," she eyed him doubtfully. "I'm meeting Beth Parsons for lunch at Smitty's Diner. I'll pick you up something." She didn't offer him an option to refuse. "See you Friday, Sam," she smiled at him and squeezed his arm on the way past. 

Dean checked the time again as they passed the clock. He bumped Sam’s shoulder as they exited. "Next time, just kick me." 

As they were heading to their respective vehicles, Liv pulled up along side of them in her SUV. She opened her mouth to say something, but Dean beat her to it.

"Pastrami," he knew she was going to get him something to eat, it may as well be something he liked. 

Liv looked disappointed, "they have a wonderful Greek salad." 

Dean blanched, "I don't do olives."

"I can order it without olives," she countered. 

"Too many onions." 

"You love onions."

"On my cheeseburger..."

"Garden?" Liv tried.

"Just veggies?" Dean shuddered. “Ugh.”

"Chef?" Liv asked hopefully.

"Tasted funny last time. And the lettuce was _yellow._ "

Sam hid a smile at the pure exasperation in Liv's voice as she said his brother's name.

Dean flashed her a knowing and playful smile and leaned in the window to kiss her on the cheek. 

"Make it a grilled chicken Caesar and you've got yourself a deal, woman,” Dean said with a laugh when it visibly dawned on Liv that he was messing with her.

"Oh, you..." She drove off.

"Extra croutons!" he called after her. 

Liv acknowledged him with a wave out the window as she turned on to the highway. 

Sam followed the Impala into town, parking next to Dean in front of the gym. He grabbed his bag from the backseat and was just about to enter behind his brother when his wandering gaze just happened to collide with a familiar pair of brooding, molasses colored eyes. He froze. 

"Hey," Dean had turned to look at him, "you coming?"

"Ah," Sam stumbled for an excuse, "yeah. I...ah...I forgot. I need to make a quick call." _Smooth._ "I'll meet you inside?"

Sam waited until Dean had disappeared inside with a curious backward glance before making his way across the street to the figure leaning a little too casually against a beat up old Ford F-150 that was parked in front of the bookstore. 

Caleb Reaves took a long draw of his cigarette, looking Sam up and down disinterestedly as he approached. 

"Reaves," Sam greeted. He'd known Caleb quite well once, but they'd never been close. 

"Sammy," Caleb took obvious, if subtle, pleasure in his bristle at the nickname that he tolerated from no one but Dean. 

_So that's how its gonna be._

“It’s Sam," he corrected firmly. Then forgoing small talk he asked, "What are you doing here?" 

"What do you think I'm doing here?" there was an edge of antagonism to their interactions that Sam had forgotten about until now. 

It hadn't always been that way - hadn't really been an issue at all until he was old enough to realize that Caleb wanted a lot more from Dean than simple friendship. Jealous, but not fully understanding why at the time, Sam had done whatever he could to come between Dean and the older hunter. It had worked too, as somewhere along the way the sometimes over-friendly nature of their relationship had changed to one of cool distance. Apparently Caleb had never forgiven him. 

"Did Dad send you here to check up on me?" Sam asked, irked at the very thought.

"Johnny doesn't send _me_ anywhere," Caleb sneered, "he's your daddy, not mine. He doesn't even know I'm here. Yet." 

Sam quietly absorbed that one. 

"You wouldn't know I was here if I didn't want you to," Caleb added arrogantly. 

Sam narrowed his eyes at the tone, but recognized the truth in the words. He was beginning to understand how John kept such close tabs on Dean's life. 

"You check in on him often?" Sam asked, curious as to how many other hunters did the same. Bobby? Jefferson? Joshua? Hell, any of them would have been preferable to Reaves. 

"From time to time," Caleb dropped what remained of his smoke and crushed it under his heel, "when a hunt brings me this way."

Sam looked over at the gym, feeling the pull to get back to Dean. His eyes snapped back to Caleb just as it occurred to him that John likely had the same network in place for him at Stanford. That didn't sit well with him at all. The smug smile that played at the corner of Caleb's mouth told Sam that the man had followed his thought process. He didn't have time for this. 

"I've gotta get back,” Sam said. He wasn't going to let Caleb get to him. He had more important things to worry about. He turned to walk away.

"This works out well for you, doesn't it?" Caleb's question held a challenge that stopped him cold.

Sam faced the hunter again, "You got something to say to me, Reaves?" 

"Just an observation," Caleb replied. "You never could handle any competition for Dean's ...affection."

Sam's jaw tightened at the implication that Jenna's death suited his own purposes just fine. He refused to justify his intentions and he most certainly would not discuss his brother's dead wife with _Caleb Reaves_.

Despite his intention of not doing so, Sam struck back at the hunter where he knew it would do the most damage - he could manage a surprising amount of arrogance himself when he put his mind to it. "You give yourself too much credit, Reaves. You always have." Sam stepped into Caleb's personal space. "Do you honestly think you ever stood a chance against me?" Then, so there would be no mistaking his intentions, he boldly added, “Dean is mine. He always has been.” 

Caleb’s eyes widened in surprise and Sam suspected it had more to do with the possessive acknowledgment of his feelings rather than the barb itself. He really didn’t care what Caleb thought. He left the hunter standing there and returned to the gym. Dean was waiting. 

Sam changed quickly and tossed his clothes along with his wallet and phone into a locker before joining his brother. Dean alternated his days at the gym between cardio and strength training. He was just hitting his stride on the rowing machine when Sam took the treadmill next to him. 

"Everything okay?" Dean asked, concerned. Sam must have looked as preoccupied as he felt.

"Yeah, sure,” Sam assured him. "Everything's fine." He would never admit it, but Caleb's sudden presence had really caught him off-guard, unsettled him. He tried to shake it off but knew it wasn't working when Dean kept tossing him the occasional glance. There was a notable absence of the comfortable small-talk Sam had become accustomed to during their workouts. He was unable to bridge the gap today. 

He was surprised, and so very pleased, when his brother stepped up and did it for him. "So," Dean asked, "how's the class going?" 

Thirty minutes later they were doing some cool down stretches when Sam was struck with sudden inspiration. It was hit or miss how crowded the gym could be during lunch hour. Today, there were maybe half a dozen other individuals scattered about the open space and only one staff member present. Perfect. The corner they currently utilized was covered with floor mats for stretching, but Sam had another purpose in mind. 

“Hey, ¨ he said to Dean out of the blue, "you...ah...up for some sparring?" 

Dean paused in his stretching and looked at Sam oddly, weighing his response for a long moment before responding. 

"Nah," he rolled his shoulders and neck, meeting Sam's gaze with a smirk, "this body's made for lovin' not fighting." 

Sam's brows arched in surprise and he was torn between saying _prove it_ and _oh, if you only knew, bro._

"C'mon," he tried again, studying his brother speculatively. Dean had never been able to refuse a challenge. Sam hoped that intrinsic trait had survived the memory loss. He decided to up the ante. "I'll take it easy on you." 

He saw the brief struggle on Dean's face and watched him check the time. He had to get back to work, but luckily Sam had timed it right. They had a few minutes to play with. Sam kept his expression friendly, but didn’t back down from the challenge. When Dean squared his chin and gave a nod of concession Sam felt a small thrill of anticipation. 

They stood opposite each other in the center of the mats. Sam took a ready position and watched as Dean noticeably mirrored his stance - eyes quickly assessing the placement of Sam's hands and feet. 

Sam noted that Dean's stance was slightly off, but solid, and that his center of gravity looked good. While it was clear he was looking to Sam for guidance, it was obvious that Dean's body was familiar with this particular dance. It was a good sign that the body remembered what the mind did not. 

Sam started with some very slow basic moves that were easy to block and defend against. He kept a close eye on Dean's expression as a fine line of concentration appeared between his brothers brows. Dean was oblivious to the scrutiny, focusing entirely on Sam's extremities for clues as to what attacks to guard against. 

Each Winchester had a personalized fighting technique all their own. Early schooling consisted of a motley mixture of various disciplines from Jiu-Jitsu, karate, judo, hapkido and incorporated traditional martial arts, as well as various forms of street fighting and hand-to-hand combat. 

John had seen to it that they had the basics in as many forms as possible. He found live instructors when he could, but just as often they learned from instructional videos and books. And Sam vaguely recalled a weekend Jackie Chan marathon that Dean insisted was _strictly for training purposes._

_Yeah, right._

Sam picked up the pace a little and let some of his kicks make contact. He was still pulling his punches, but let a few of those meet muscle as well. He was too conscious of Dean's head injury to allow any contact above the neck. 

More times than he could recall growing up, Sam had been Dean's experimental sparring partner. His brother learned a new move, he had to try it out on Sam. That ended about the time Sam hit a growth spurt and Dean could no longer toss him around like a rag doll. Then the real fun began. 

Sam learned to be as proficient a fighter as Dean. He approached the activity like he did everything else - logically and methodically. His style was all cool, quiet calculation. He could and did fight when necessary, but he did not like it. 

In stark contrast, Dean loved the physical aspect of fighting. His brother thrived on all forms of physical contact. Sam would never forget the first time he witnessed Dean in an all-out brawl. His brother had just turned nineteen and was hustling pool with John at a bar while Sam did his homework in the Impala. The parking lot was quiet except for the occasional couple going in or out of the bar and the bass of the jukebox that Sam had finally managed to tune out. 

He'd looked up as a crowd of people came flooding out of the bar. He could tell by the cat calls and the circle that had formed that it was a fight. He didn't have to be psychic to figure out that Dean was somehow involved. The same cocky grin and arrogant swagger that got his brother into the bar without being carded were usually the same traits that got him into trouble once he was in there

Sam stepped from the Impala, wanting a front row seat, just as John grabbed his arm. “Stay back and don’t distract him.¨ His father didn’t release him until he gave a nod of agreement. He was tempted to jump onto the hood of the Impala for a better view, but all that would do is get _his_ ass kicked when Dean got done kicking the ass of whoever had been stupid enough to challenge his brother to a fight in the first place. 

Dean never fought anyone above their ability to defend themselves. It became clear very quickly that his opponent was of a similar skill level. They traded punches and kicks in a flurry of choreographed movements that left Sam (and John) in awe. Neither of them had realized until that moment just how much Dean held back when they sparred as a family. It was amazing. Watching his brother fight was like watching others dance. Dean had the deadly fluid grace of a stalking panther; was power held in check with a style as smooth as it was unpredictable. 

Surprisingly, the fight had ended in a draw with a handshake and a grudging mutual respect that left the brunette on the sidelines feeling more an afterthought than the prize she started out as.

It was all still there. It had to be. 

Sam blocked a strike that was a little too slow - had too much thought behind it. He countered in a move that was too quick for Dean to avoid and sent him stumbling back with more power than he'd intended. 

Dean cocked his head to the side, jaw tight, breathing through his nose. Intense. Irritated that he wasn't able to gain the upper hand. They had an audience now Sam noted. So far everyone was still distractedly doing their workout, but curious gazes were upon them. Sam ignored them. Dean didn't seem to notice. 

When Dean came back at him, Sam took it as a good sign. His brother was into this, but was still over-thinking it. It was time to do something about that. He stepped up the speed again and decided to incorporate moves that would be more difficult to counter. For this little experiment of his to work, Dean had to stop thinking about what he was doing. 

One of the most basic, powerful and versatile kicks in any form of martial arts was the karate roundhouse kick. By age twelve, Dean had mastered the move if not the power behind it. Sam unleashed a flurry of quick punches that Dean wasn’t entirely able to block - one slipping through and catching him neatly on the chin. Sam cringed inwardly, but let it go. Dean’s eyes narrowed. 

Sam moved into position, pivoting his body in preparation for the kick. Sam rotated through the move at full speed and brought his leg up, foot back, going for the strike. His goal was to catch Dean in the center of the chest. If he pulled the kick last minute, the worst it would do is knock the wind out of him. 

He didn’t get a chance to find out.

Before he could connect, Dean caught his leg and brought his elbow down on the inside of Sam’s knee. 

It hurt, but Sam was already twisting out of the move, something he wouldn't have been able to do if Dean were fully aware of what he'd just done. Sam registered the shock on Dean's face. He didn't give himself or Dean time to think about it. He countered with the same kick, spinning to the left instead of the right. He held nothing back this time. 

Dean ducked the kick and reacted with an excellently executed lunge punch that Sam only barely managed to avoid. The move was classic Dean, quickly closing the distance between them, utilizing in-close fighting techniques to eliminate Sam's height and reach as an advantage. It was a tactic Dean learned when he finally accepted that Sam was going to outgrow him. 

If Sam weren't so familiar with it, Dean could really have done some damage. Gone was the uncertain look of concentration on his brother's face. In its place was a focused intent that had Sam tightening his guard. He was pretty certain that Dean wouldn't be pulling any of his punches.

Not wanting this to get too out of control, Sam hesitated when re-examining his strategy. To those watching, the pause was so minute that it wasn't noticeable at all. To someone trained in the art of fighting - it was an opening to take advantage of. 

Dean recognized the opportunity for what it was.

In the blink of an eye, Sam went from offense to defense. A succession of kicks and jabs rained down on him so fast that he too was forced to act on instinct alone. He managed to block the worst of it, but enough was enough. He'd proven his point. It was time to end this.

Upper hand firmly in place, Dean continued to push his advantage. Sam realized the only way to put a stop to the match was to take his brother down. He waited for the appropriate timing and then went for a leg sweep. 

As if he'd been anticipating the move, Dean stepped into it, pivoted hip-to-hip and used Sam's own momentum to flip him to the ground. What was left of the air in Sam's lungs was expelled as Dean came down on top of him, muscled forearm settling firmly across his throat. 

Sam swallowed and held perfectly still, effectively pinned beneath his brother’s weight. The moment stretched. He became aware of the background music once again. It seemed loud and out of place. Everyone in his peripheral vision was frozen - not even pretending to be otherwise occupied. Sam dismissed them all as unimportant and focused on Dean. 

He could feel each warm exhalation of breath, see the flecks of gold in clear emerald eyes, as awareness slowly bled through instinct. Sam placed a calming hand on the outside of Dean's thigh, letting it curl around muscle that trembled. 

Dean looked down at him, horrified. The inside of his thighs tightened against Sam’s hips as he pulled away. 

He looked so legitimately unnerved and confused by his actions that Sam’s voice softened in response. “Its okay, Dean.” 

Unsettled, Dean stood and backed away from him. He paused at the edge of the mat, right hand rubbing down over his face and then hovering over his mouth. Sam got up slowly, ignored those who were still gawking and focused on his brother. 

“Dean,” he said calmly, moving closer. 

“You,” Dean looked at him, unable to hide the tremor in his voice, “are you okay?” 

“Dude, are you kidding?" Sam down played in his best _give me some credit here_ voice. Then, with regret, continued to push his brother. "That was great! Where did you learn to fight like that?"

Dean froze. "I..." his jaw worked but nothing came out, "I...” he tried again and Sam bit his lip at the small quiver in Dean's chin. Dean was unable to voice the answer so clearly displayed in his eyes.

_I don't know._

Sam was in torment as Dean faltered. The urge to just hold him was nearly overpowering. He watched as Dean struggled to find his equilibrium, glancing at him self-consciously from beneath a sweep of ridiculously long lashes. Sam took another step forward and effectively broke the spell of uncertainty.

Dean stepped back, away from him, "I've gotta get back." 

Sam understood the distancing but was hurt by it nonetheless, "Okay." Then added cautiously, "I'll see you Friday?"

Dean nodded, meeting his gaze, before heading back to the locker room. Sam let him go - let him have his space. Dropping to the mat with a sigh, he noted that everyone had gone back to their workouts but several curious gazes followed his brother. Sam slowly went through his stretches again and was just finishing when Dean came back through with his duffel.

He took it as a good sign that Dean paused on his way out. He didn't say anything, just looked at Sam. Conflicted. Self conscious. Sam stilled at the emotion his brother was unable to hide. It would be a major sign of trust if Dean opened up to him about his memory loss. 

The moment was lost when the bell above the entrance softly chimed and two women, in the midst of an animated conversation, effectively put an end to the moment. One of the women paused, recognizing Dean, interest evident in every line of her body language.

"Hello, Dean." 

"Nadine,” Dean’s head dipped in the barest of courtesy and he turned back to Sam. Nadine colored at the dismissal but proceeded to check Sam out in fine order as well.

The distraction allowed Dean the recovery time he needed. Sam thought he saw disappointment in his brother's eyes but it was gone so quickly that he couldn't be sure. 

"I've gotta..." Dean was already angling toward to door, but something in Sam's eyes had him hesitating. 

"Yeah,” Sam agreed reluctantly, letting him off the hook. _It's okay. Go._

Dean searched his face, and unconsciously responded to Sam's unspoken reassurance. The stiffness in his shoulders eased some, lines smoothing at the corner of his eyes.

"Friday?" _See you then?_

"Friday." Sam confirmed with a nod. 

He watched Dean leave, stood there for a long moment before heading back to the locker room for a shower. He took his time, letting the liquid heat soak through his body. Already he could feel a bruise forming along his ribs and another high on his cheekbone, and the inside of his knee, where Dean's elbow had connected, was tender and slightly swollen. 

It felt good. It was proof that the brother he knew and loved was there. Lost beneath the surface, but still there. 

Sam towel-dried his hair and dressed, in no hurry to get back to his hotel room and the lesson plan for tomorrow's class. Slipping his wallet into his back pocket he picked up his cell phone and noticed he had a new text message. He frowned at the unfamiliar number and hit ‘view.’

 

_Something’s wrong. Caleb._

 

Sam stared at the phone until the import of Caleb’s words spurred him to action. He threw his workout clothes into his bag and slammed the locker shut. He stalked out of the locker room with such urgency that he nearly mowed down Nadine, who had apparently been waiting for him to emerge. Sam reached for her by reflex when she stumbled. 

Startled, but smiling, she tried to introduce herself, “Hi, I’m…”

“Sorry,” Sam interrupted, brushing by her without a second thought, “I have to go.” His single-minded intensity to get to Dean left her gaping after him. Sam threw his bag into the passenger seat of his rental car and headed back to Walkers at a speed that was likely to get him in serious trouble if he crossed paths with the local police. 

About three miles out from the gym, Sam’s stomach clenched with worry as he spotted the Impala on the side of the road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sparring scene almost didn't make it into the fic. I had a very hard time with it.


	6. Not so Peachy

Sam no sooner caught a glimpse of the Impala pulled off to the side of the road when a silver Ford Focus sedan turned off and parked just ahead of it.  
Sam slowed as a redhead in office attire made her way to Dean’s window, bending at the waist to peer inside. She turned her head, looking at Sam curiously when he pulled in directly behind the Impala. He recognized her but couldn't place from where. 

“Hey there,” he said, approaching the driver’s side door and settling to his haunches so Dean wouldn't have to look up at him. “Everything okay here?”

There was noticeable relief in Dean’s eyes at Sam’s sudden presence.

“Peachy,” he said a little too cheerfully. Dean kept his eyes low, squinting, as if they were sensitive to the early afternoon sun. It was obvious he was in pain and trying not to show it. “I see you got my message.”

The redhead looked back and forth between them. She was noticeably concerned about Dean but was quickly coming to the conclusion that her presence was making him uncomfortable.

“Yeah,” Sam said, meeting her understanding gaze and sending Caleb a silent yet begrudging thank you. “I got here as soon as I could.” 

“Well, I see you’ve got more help here than you need,” she all but whispered and Sam could have kissed her. She gave him a quick acknowledging wink and straightened. “I’ve got to get back to work.”

Dean slid one hand over his face, blocking the light and bracing his elbow on the door, unable to comment further. Sam frowned in concern but rose to his feet out of courtesy.

“Thanks for stopping, Bev.” He remembered her name about two seconds before he spoke it. Bev Halligan, mid-forties, married, mother of two. He’d briefly met her and her husband Ben after Sunday morning service a few weeks ago. 

An elegant auburn brow arched in surprise, pleased and impressed with his memory. “Don’t mention it.” Her eyes strayed to Dean and then back to Sam, worried. 

She left with a backward glance and Sam waited until she had pulled back onto the road before crouching next to the car again.  
Dean hadn’t moved. 

“Headache?” Sam hadn’t seen evidence of additional migraines since the night they all had dinner at Liv’s. He’d been watching, but there was a huge chunk of time when he could not keep vigil. 

“Yeah,” Dean replied in a whisper of sound, “Just need…a minute…”

“Do you have anything to take for it?” Sam quietly interrupted.

Dean’s response was delayed. “Home. I need to go…”

“You’re in no condition to drive, man.” Sam pointed out. “Why don't you let me...”

“No.” Soft, but adamant.

 

"Dean..."

Dean peeked at him out of the corner of one eye. “Dude, I’m not leaving my car on the side of the road."

Sam blinked at him open-mouthed, but Dean had already closed his eyes again. _Oh…my...God. What is it with you and this car?_ “Okay.” He eyed both vehicles in consideration before walking back to his rental. Sam grabbed his messenger bag and laptop before locking it up. When he came back to the Impala he opened the driver’s side door slowly, giving Dean plenty of time to shift his weight. “Slide over.”

Dean looked at him through squinted eyes. Despite the pain, Sam knew that look well. _You think I’m gonna let you drive my baby? Just like that?_

“It’s your call,” Sam replied, and then added for incentive, “it’s only a matter of time before someone else pulls over to help. Hey - if you wait long enough maybe Nadine will happen by..."

That got him a dirty that's low look, but it was followed by a sigh as Dean scooted slowly across the seat. Sam slid behind the wheel, feeling a sense of home that was second only to Dean. He felt Dean's eyes on him as he reached for the key. The Impala started with a loud rumble for which Dean should have been prepared, but winced at regardless.

"I know,” Sam said, easily anticipating his brother's next words, "not a scratch. Got it."

Dean wasn't quite sure how to interpret that. He stared at Sam until his sensitive eyes could take it no longer and he covered them once again.  
Sam searched the dash and console, "Sunglasses?"

"Left 'em at work."

It was likely beyond the point where they would do any good anyways. "Okay then,” Sam waited for a break in traffic and made a wide u-turn, "Let's get you home."

The ride back through town was a silent one. Sam tried to make it as smooth as possible. He could tell by the way Dean's breathing changed that the pain was getting worse. It was a toss up who was more relieved when he pulled the big car to a careful stop in the driveway.

“We’re here,” Sam said when Dean didn’t move.

Dean slid out in a slow, measured movement and took great care to make sure the door made as little noise as possible. “I’ll be right back.”

Sam’s worry increased as he watched Dean make his way carefully to the door and disappear inside. The desire to follow was overwhelming. Forcing himself to stay put, Sam waited. One misstep was all it would take to lose some of the hard-earned ground he'd so diligently and patiently worked to gain. Hands tightly gripping the steering wheel, he waited. And waited.

And waited.

It was just the other side of an agonizingly long fifteen minutes when he could stand it no longer. There was no response when he knocked on the door so he rang the buzzer, wincing in sympathy for Dean as he did so. Nothing. The door was unlocked. He let himself in.

“Dean?”

No response.

Sam eyed the living area, getting his first look at Dean’s home. The décor was a complementing coordination of natural wood and sage green accented by neutral splashes of beige and cream-colored throw pillows and candles. Sam’s first fleeting thought was that the house was surprisingly well kept. He wasn’t quite sure why that surprised him, but it did. Spooky bathed in a patch of sun on the hardwood floor and looked up at him with a lazy blink.  
He entered the kitchen and circled the island at its center. “Dean?” he called again, taking in the breakfast dishes in the sink and the scattering of crumbs on the counter left earlier that morning.

Sam passed the breezeway, pausing as he caught site of a pair of Dean’s work boots sitting next to a ridiculously small set of pastel pink sneakers near the door. For a long moment he just stood there, looking down at them. Despite the fact that he’d met Isabella in the flesh, her mere existence still managed to take him by surprise every now and then.

He was beginning to find the complete lack of noise, of any natural movement at all, disturbing. It was too quiet. Sam's worry about overstepping was quickly being overridden by concern.

“Dean?” He paused at the bottom of the stairs. Something was obviously wrong. He took the stairs quickly making enough noise to warn of his presence.  
He peeked into the first room he encountered. Isabella’s room was soft mixtures of lilac and ivory that very much befit the pint-sized princess she was. His sense of urgency increasing, Sam moved on quickly.

He found his brother in the next room. Sitting still and silent on the edge of the bed, Dean cradled his head in his hands as if it were a delicate piece of glass on the verge of shattering at the slightest vibration. Sam went to one knee, left hand falling gently to Dean's shoulder, "Dean, hey..."  
His brother made a low keening noise in the back of his throat, part warning, part plea, every muscle in his body rock hard in reaction to pain. 

Sam understood very quickly that Tylenol wasn't going to fix this. He recalled Liv and Dean's reaction to the last headache and was quite certain that at one time they were an ongoing issue. Dean's desire to get home had to mean that he had something potent enough on hand to take care of it.

"Where...?"

Dean was reduced to barely audible one word responses, “Cabinet.”

The cabinet in the attached bathroom held two newly filled prescription bottles. He grabbed both and quickly returned to Dean, kneeling on the floor in front of him, opening the bottle marked for treatment of migraines as he did so.

"Here."

Dean didn’t open his eyes, just held his hand out. Sam placed a small tablet in the center of his palm.

"Two," Dean quietly demanded.

Sam didn't question or hesitate, despite the fact that the bottle said to take one as needed. He had to trust that his brother knew what he needed.  
Trying to take the medication without moving his head or opening his eyes proved to be problematic and almost had Sam plucking the tablets from Dean's hand and popping them directly into his mouth. In the end he settled for a steadying hand on the back of Dean's neck and helped guide the pills to their destination, breathing a small sigh of relief once they were swallowed.

His hand on Dean's knee, Sam waited in silence for any indication that the medication was working. After an agonizingly long fifteen minutes, Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly, some of the tension melting from his frame as he did so. It was another seven minutes before he could release his head and another five before he could lift it.

“Whoa,” Sam reached to brace him as he swayed to the right, “Easy.” 

Eyes closed, Dean swallowed convulsively, holding himself carefully. Sam moved out of the line of fire _just in case._

Uncertain if the nausea was a side effect of the medication or a symptom of the headache, Sam gave Dean a moment before asking, “Can you lie down?”  
At first Dean didn't move or even acknowledge the question. Then he slowly began to shift, moving in increments to lower himself to the bed. Sam quickly tucked another pillow beneath his head for elevation, and then did his best not to hover. He gave into the temptation to assist when Dean ran out of steam; a hand at the back of his calf to guide Dean's right foot from the floor to the bed.

For a long time Sam just listened to Dean breathing, watched as his body relaxed deeper and deeper into the mattress. Eventually, aching knees had him moving from the floor to the bed, settling hip-to-hip next to his brother.

The pull of pain at the corner of Dean's eyes had eased, but the pronounced crease between his brows had not. When gentle fingers framed his face from crown to jaw Dean gripped Sam's forearms reflexively. 

"Let me help you," Sam did his best to keep the plea out of his voice.

Taking the lack of response as permission, Sam lightly massaged Dean's temples, using his thumbs to stroke lightly over the arch of brows and the soft patch of skin beneath each eye. 

Dean didn't release him, but his body began to gradually relax. Sam repeated each movement slowly, alternating between soothing strokes and gentle massage.

"My girlfriend, Jess, used to get headaches,” Sam confided quietly, to distract more than anything. "Nothing this severe, but this used to help...I think." He really wasn't sure if it helped at all, but it had made him feel better to be doing something. 

When Sam combed his large splayed hands through Dean's hair and cupped his skull, Dean arched back into the touch and Sam had a sudden desire to press his lips to the smooth column of throat in a gesture of comfort. Instead he applied light circular pressure with the pads of his fingers. Dean sighed and released his hold, one hand falling to his chest, the other to the bed.

"Better?" Sam smiled softy. 

Dean didn't respond. Sam could tell that the full force of the drugs had taken hold. He traced away the last line of discomfort between sculpted brows when Dean struggled valiantly, lashes fluttering, against another side effect of the medication. 

"Don't fight it,” Sam coaxed. “Sleep, Dean. It's probably the best thing for you."

"Can't..." He was exhausted, his speech beginning to slur, "Izzy."

Sam frowned and looked at his watch. It was just after 2:30. Way too early to worry about picking up Isabella - unless Dean was worried he wouldn’t wake up in time.

"I could pick her up for you,” Sam offered.

"Not..." Dean tried to open his eyes. Sam saw a slit of green before they're clamped closed a split second later, still very sensitive to the light, "on the list." 

He hadn't thought of that. He was a stranger as far as Miss Chloe was concerned. There's no way he would be allowed to leave with Isabella.

"Liv?" Sam asked. Liv already picked Isabella up on Tuesdays and Thursday's when Dean had class in Millidge.

Dean's hand strayed to the cell phone in the front pocket of his jeans. He struggled to free it from the snug denim, his movements sluggish and slow.  
"S'okay," Sam said, covering Dean's hand and stalling the movement, "I've got it. 

Easing the phone from Dean's pocket, he flipped it open and scrolled through the contacts until he found Liv's number. She picked up on the second ring.  
"Dean, honey, where are you? I was starting to get worried." Her voice was light, but Sam heard the very real concern.

"Hey, Liv." Sam’s voice was low in deference to Dean.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, _"Sam?"_

"Yeah," his tone of voice acknowledged her concern, "hey, do you think that maybe you could pick Isabella up from daycare this afternoon?"

There was another pause as Liv assessed the situation. _"How bad is it?"_

He really wasn't sure how much Dean would want him to say, but decided it was best to be honest.

"Pretty bad," Sam admitted, "he couldn't drive. I got him home but he only made it so far before he couldn't move at all."

 _"Damn,"_ Liv said, worried. _"They're getting worse."_

"What?" That comment had Sam's immediate attention.

 _"Has he taken his medication?"_ Liv overrode his question.

"Yes."

_"How many?"_

"Two."

_"How long ago?"_

Sam checked his watch, "Half hour."

_"Is he still awake?"_

Dean tossed his head restlessly as if he'd heard her. "Barely." Sam covered the hand on Dean's chest with one of his own in an attempt to soothe. "He's fighting it."

 _"Fighting it?"_ Liv asked, alarmed. _"Why?"_

"I don't think he's going to let go until he knows for sure that Isabella is taken care of,” Sam gently reminded.

 _"Oh, good heavens, yes."_ Chagrined, Liv was animated and urgent in her response. _“Yes, yes, of course I'll pick Bella up. Let him know, Sam. Let him know."_ Now.

Sam lowered the receiver. _"It's okay, Dean. Liv's got Izzy. She'll be fine."_

He saw the moment Dean let go and surrendered to the warm loopiness of the medication, face turned into the pillow, toward Sam.

"It's okay." The tenderness of Sam's touch transferred audibly to his voice as his thumb caressed the back of Dean's hand. "Sleep."  
Sam relaxed as Dean finally slipped into the peaceful oblivion of sleep.

_"Sam?”_

Sam was startled to realize he's momentarily forgotten about Liv. 

"I'm here."

 _"Is he out?"_ She asked.

"Yeah, he's out." Sam lightly traced the line of Dean's jaw with the back of his fingers, thumb hovering perilously close to silky rose colored lips. He hesitated, mouth thinning, and then reluctantly withdrew. It just didn't feel right without Dean's knowledge or consent.

 _"Can you do me a favor, Sam?"_ Liv asked. _"There’s a delivery I have to be here for this afternoon, could you... I mean I hate to impose, but...would it be possible for you to stay until I get there. I just...I’d feel better if he weren't alone."_

It took Sam a minute to figure out exactly what Liv was getting at. To him it was a foregone conclusion. "I'm not going anywhere." 

He didn't realize how firmly he'd spoken until his words were met with silence. 

_"Okay, then."_ Liv recovered quickly then got down to business. _"You need to watch him closely for the first couple of hours, Sam. If he didn't get to his meds in time, it's rare, but he's had seizures in the past."_

Sam blinked, eyeing Dean with a new level of concern. He'd been so relieved when Dean finally succumbed to sleep he hadn't stopped to consider any other possible complications.

 _"If that happens, you call me,"_ she ordered. _"With two pills he’ll be out of commission for at least four hours…"_ Liv left the sentence hanging, letting Sam know what he was in for and a general timeline.

"Not a problem," he assured her.

 _"Okay. Good. That's good."_ The urgent edge was fading from Liv's voice. In its place was relief and gratitude. _"Thank you, Sam. I know this is asking a lot."_

"Its okay, Liv. Really." _There's no place else I'd rather be._ "It'll give me a chance to prepare for tomorrow's class."

 _"If anything happens, if you need me at all, just call okay?"_ Liv seemed hesitant about hanging up now that the conversation was coming to a close.

"He's going to be fine," Sam promised with enough conviction to convince himself. "But if it'll make you feel better, I'll text you with hourly updates."

 _"Oh, would you?"_ It was as if a weight had been lifted, he could hear it in her voice. _”That would be great."_

"I'd be happy to,” he said sincerely. Liv's genuine fondness for Dean had long since won him over.

The call ended with Liv's assurance that she would pick Bella up at the usual time and then take her back to her house for dinner so that Dean could have as much undisturbed rest as possible.

Setting the phone on vibrate, Sam closed it and put it on the nightstand next to the bed. Taking his cell out, he added Liv's number to his contacts, set it to vibrate as well and then tucked it back into his pocket. 

Then, Sam did something he'd wanted to do for a very long time. He looked at Dean. Just looked - enjoying the opportunity to do so unencumbered. Over the course of the weeks, he'd become so careful and accustomed to watching and studying Dean without appearing to do so - always worrying about someone catching him staring for far longer than was likely appropriate. 

And it wasn't just Dean he had to worry about. More than once he'd pulled his eyes from his brother to find Liv watching him. It had happened once or twice with Rand as well. Fortunately, those instances also involved some type of mechanical prowess on Dean's part that _could_ easily explain his preoccupation. Such was not the case with Liv.

Intuitive and observant to a fault, Liv's presence was both a blessing and a curse in Sam's plan to infiltrate Dean's life. She was the cornerstone of their little family, a source of maternal support to which his brother responded in a way that made Sam's heart ache for Mary's loss and what could have been - for both of them. And despite the fact that he had to be extra careful when Liv was around, Sam found he simply could not resent her presence. She loved his brother too much. 

Sighing in his sleep, Dean pursed his lips, the beginnings of a pout hinting at residual or remembered pain. Sam soothed it away with soft whispers and gentle touches. For close to an hour he did nothing but watch his brother breathe, amazed at how young Dean looked without all his protective barriers in place; some of which were so subtle and ingrained that they’d managed to survive the memory loss. 

Sam traced a faint line over the ridge of Dean's nose, admiring the splash of pale freckles there, shook his head at beautifully thick lashes, dark and curved at the edges, and lips that were sweet and full -begging to be kissed. He'd had any number of fantasies about those lips and what they could do to him - what they could reduce him to.

Sam had the decency to blush. At one time, guilt and shame had riddled such ponderings, but those days had long since fallen away. It was hard fought and too long in coming not to enjoy both the acceptance and the anticipation that came with all the hopes and dreams he held for his life with Dean.  
Sam smiled and then did something else he'd wanted to do for a very long time. He kissed his brother. Warm lips met cool skin, lightly pressing between brows smoothed in peaceful slumber. Presented this rare opportunity to look and touch without recrimination, Sam took one last liberty and ran a hand through the soft spikes of Dean's hair.

Vulnerable and defenseless, Dean's sleep-softened features hinted an innocence that had long since vanished -a lost little boy rather than the fearsome hunter Sam knew him to be. It stirred within him a protective nature that was as fierce as it was foreign. He after all, was the youngest, one of the protected. Dad and Dean had made sure of it.

_It's my turn, bro. I'm gonna take care of you this time._

Twisting around to do a search of the room, Sam spotted a chair in the corner by the window. He removed the magazines stacked on it and set them on the floor; the shirts tossed haphazardly on the back were carefully draped over a nearby dresser. He placed the chair at the foot of the bed and set to removing Dean's work boots. After a second of consideration he removed his socks as well. Going barefoot had always been one of his brothers little known and much treasured pleasures. 

Unable to resist the physical contact, Sam wrapped his large hands alternately around each foot, flexing the sole and kneading the inside of each arch. When he caught himself in the midst of gently massing each individual toe, Sam suddenly realized what he was doing and ducked his head. He glanced up through a fringe of bangs, half expecting to see Dean’s, _Jesus, you’re such a girl_ look glaring down at him. Luckily, his brother hadn’t moved a muscle or in any way acknowledged his ministrations, which was just as well. Reluctantly, Sam kept his hands to himself. It wouldn’t do him any favors if Dean woke to find him fondling his feet. That would just be awkward.

A quick check of his watch informed him that it was nearing 4:00. Sam sent a short and reassuring text to Liv that all was well and followed it up with a 'sorry' for being late. It was another hour and a half before the transition to lighter more natural sleep overtook the deep effect of the medication.

When Dean actually began to respond to external sounds by tossing his head or shifting minutely and Sam felt certain there was no danger of seizures, he left his brother alone long enough to run down to the Impala to retrieve his laptop.

Once it was powered up and ready to go he snagged the prescription bottles off the nightstand and googled them, starting with the one that had put his brother down for the count. Imitrex - used in the treatment of migraines, Imitrex helps to relieve pain and other symptoms such as sensitivity to light or sound, nausea and vomiting. Prompt treatment _may_ allow a return to one’s normal routine and decrease the need for additional pain medication. It does not, however, prevent future migraines or their frequency. Possible side effects include dizziness, nausea, fatigue, and in some cases, extreme drowsiness. Sam looked up at Dean, brows raised. _Ya think?_

Unfortunately, those symptoms were mild in comparison to the side effect of the other drug. Depakote - used to treat seizure disorders and prevent migraines, Depakote worked by restoring the balance of neurotransmitters in the brain. A list of the most common and potentially severe side effects ranged from alarming to downright distressing. Sam scanned it with a growing sense of horror. Symptoms included change in appetite, stomach pain, trouble sleeping and vomiting. Those were mild in comparison to what came next: difficulty breathing, tightness in the chest, changes in mood or behavior, confusion, difficulty speaking, fast or irregular heartbeat. Sam had to stop reading when he got to hallucinations and loss of coordination.

While he knew the likelihood of such severe side effects was miniscule, he was unwilling to risk the possibility. Instead of pocketing the bottle as was his first instinct, Sam opened it and did a manual count, relieved to discover that there were thirty pills inside to match the thirty day supply that was prescribed. A precautionary measure then. He certainly hoped so, though he knew that if the frequency of the headaches increased Dean would have no choice but to take them.

Over the course of the next hour, Sam continued to research migraines and then cross reference with any information he could find on amnesia in an attempt to determine if Dean's headaches were a sign that his memory was returning. There was a frustratingly small amount of information available on the combined subjects. What he did find was not overly promising.

It seems that severe traumatic retrograde amnesia, the kind with which Dean was diagnosed was, as the name implies, the most severe form of memory loss. And while there were documented cases of memory recovery, none of those could claim total recall. One article surmised that the best one could hope for was 40 percent return of memory. Another article gave a range of anywhere from 10 to 85 percent.

In all of the articles and studies Sam read, however, there was one consistent and decisive factor in individuals who recovered their lost memories: all were preceded by a precipitating event of some kind – a trigger or some form of external stimuli from something as physical and traumatic as a blow to the head or a sensory issue that could be as gentle and subtle as the smell of fresh cut grass after a summer rain. Whatever the event, it was usually specific and in some way unique to the individual in question.

Sam rubbed his eyes, tired but encouraged. There was a chance that Dean would remember him. It was all the encouragement he needed. If all Dean remembered was him, just him, everything would be okay. He could work with that. He could build from that.

The room had darkened to a pale gray while he read. Dean continued to doze, but it was a light surface sleep and Sam could tell that he would be waking soon. Down the street someone honked an obscenely loud horn. Furrowing his brow in response, Dean angled away from the noise and curled to his right side - not quite ready to face the world. 

Before he even realized what he was doing, Sam ran his index finger lightly down the center of the bottom of his brother's foot, feeling vaguely guilty when Dean instinctively pulled away and issued a low muffled complaint. Some irrational sibling instinct almost had him doing it again, but he managed to restrain himself.

It was nearing seven when Sam heard Liv's car pull into the driveway. He looked out the window as Isabella hopped from the car and then ran for the house, Liv following more slowly with a stack of Tupperware. Placing the pill bottles back in the cabinet Sam paused next to Dean, looking down at him for a moment as Liv's voice floated up from below. Fingertips caressed the curve of a cotton clad shoulder as he turned to leave, making his way downstairs.

Liv was pulling items from the refrigerator when he entered. Isabella was nowhere to be seen.

"Hey,” he said, garnering her attention. Liv opened her mouth to speak but whatever she was about to say was curtailed.

"Sam!" Isabella exclaimed, making a beeline for him with Spooky right behind her. She was so legitimately happy to see him that he was taken aback. Even more so when she wrapped an arm around his leg and looked up at him. He took the hint and lifted her easily, amazed at how light she was. 

"I had ice-cream for dessert,” she announced unnecessarily. Sam smiled at the telltale evidence staining her face and top.

"I see that." He looked into sparkling eyes, extremely pleased at the unexpected closeness. Over the course of the weeks they'd gotten familiar with one another but had yet to make any real connection - or so he thought.

"Chocolate," Liv chimed in, watching closely. "What was I thinking?"

"Chocolate?" Sam repeated, bringing his attention back to the child in his arms. "Mmmmmm, my favorite."

Isabella looked positively tickled. "Mine too. With sprinkles,” she added with a decisive nod.

"Rainbow or chocolate?" Sam tested. 

She gave him a look that he could only interpret as _duh!_ It practically screamed Dean and he almost squeezed her in response. "Choclate, silly."

Then as quickly as she'd latched on to Sam, Isabella decided she had other things to do. She straightened her legs so that Sam was forced to lower her to the ground. Her feet hit the floor and she was off and running.

He looked to Liv, still amazed. He felt as if he'd finally gotten to hold a small bird he'd been cooing at and building trust with for weeks. Understanding the important step for what it was, Liv returned his smile.

"Hungry?" she then asked.

He realized suddenly that he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast, and that he was in fact, "Starving."

"Have a seat. I brought dinner," Liv said, delighted with his response  
.  
Sam didn't have to be told twice. He sat down at the table just as Dean came shuffling in, carrying Isabella. His brother was adorably sleep rumpled and sexy as hell in faded denim and bare feet.

"Oh, Bella,” Liv mildly chastised. "We talked about letting Daddy rest, remember."

"It's okay,” Dean said, voice rough and deep. "I was awake."

He sat down across from Sam, Isabella perched on his knee and chattering away about her day. Despite not being totally recovered from the effects of the medication, Dean gave her his full attention, listening to her jump from one topic to the next with an indulgent, if tired, smile.

In no time at all, Liv had a hot meal on the table in front of them: Spaghetti and meatballs, one of Sam's favorites. She poured them each a glass of ice water and heated some garlic bread in the microwave before focusing her attention on her granddaughter.

"Okay, little miss sticky face." She said with a mock scowl that had Isabella giggling. "Time for a bath."

Sam watched as father and daughter unconsciously leaned into each other before separating, Dean dropping a kiss to Isabella's temple before releasing her. 

They listened to the muffled sounds and snatches of conversation from above as Sam dug enthusiastically into his meal. Both elbows on the table, chin resting in one hand, Dean closed his eyes with a long suffering sigh. "Man, this sucks."

"How are you feeling?" Sam asked before taking a sip of water, keeping one eye on Dean.

“Like somebody scraped me off the bottom of their shoe,” Dean said. Despite the honest answer, Sam could tell that his brother was embarrassed by the whole ordeal. 

After four hours of sleep, Dean was still exhausted. His eyes were open, but still squinting a little in the glare of the overhead light. He made an attempt to push his food around. 

"You should eat something,” Sam said, aware that Dean had not eaten anything since before lunch either. "It'll make you feel better."

Dean made a non-committal noise in the back of his throat but took a few tentative bites of his dinner. When he took a sip of his water, he suddenly realized how thirsty he was. He downed the entire glass in one long swallow as Sam watched his throat work. As soon as the glass hit the table, Sam poured him another. Dean drank half of that as well. He never went back to his food Sam noticed.

They sat in companionable silence for another ten minutes while Sam finished his meal. Eventually he heard tiny footfalls echoing down the stairs. Isabella appeared in robe and slippers, her blonde ringlets darkened and damp at the nape of her neck. Liv followed moments later with an arm full of dirty clothes and towels, disappearing behind a door that Sam assumed led to the basement. 

By the time Liv reappeared, Isabella had fetched a DVD and was regarding Dean hopefully. 

"Spooky wants to watch Little Bear, Daddy."

Dean tilted his head in her direction, obviously amused at her approach. "Spooky does, huh?"

"Mmmm,hmmm." Isabella continued seriously. "He pooed in the litter box like he's s'pose to, too."

She obviously felt that deserved some type of reward. "He did?" Dean managed to look impressed, but required more clarification. " _In_ the litter box?"

Isabella amended her answer but did so proudly. "Mostly."

Dean did that fascinating thing with his eyebrows where one quirks up and the other down. Sam and Liv were both doing their best not to laugh.

"Mostly,” Dean said decisively, "is an improvement." He nodded to Liv who was awaiting his decision. She followed a happy Isabella into the next room and got her settled with her show. 

Dean lowered his head again, one hand straying to the back of his neck. Concerned, Sam asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah,” Dean sounded a little embarrassed. "That stuff just wipes me out, you know."

He straightened in his chair when Liv came back into the room. She paused next to him, looking down at his plate of barely touched food. She didn't say anything, just laid a gentle hand on the side of his face. Dean accepted the touch, looking up at her with tired eyes.

It was a fleeting moment of closeness, but one that Sam envied. He wasn't used to being on the outside when it came to his brother. 

"Should I stay?" Liv asked as she began clearing away the dishes.

Dean considered the question, which surprised Sam. “I’ll just tuck Izzy in bed with me tonight. If she wakes, I’ll hear her."

Liv nodded at Dean's reassurance. "Well then,” she turned to Sam. "I guess you'll need a ride back to your car."

He hadn't even thought of that.

"You mind if I jump in the shower before you go?" Dean asked. "Just be a few minutes." 

"Of course,” Liv replied for both of them. "Take your time, honey. We'll keep Bella company."

Isabella however was more interested in Little Bear than conversation. Far from offended, Liv simply made her way back to the kitchen to do some more cleaning, leaving Sam to wander around the living room, drawn to the photos on display. Most were Isabella in various stages of growth. But as cute as those were, he found himself focusing more on the few that contained Jenna, looking for any hints to her personality.

The wedding picture on the wall was a variation of the one he'd seen at the library. This time however the bride and groom were facing the camera. Once again Sam marveled at the open, unguarded look of joy on his brother's face. They were a beautiful couple.

"It's not often you see a groom as pretty as the bride, is it?" He hadn't heard her approach and had no idea how long she'd been standing there.

Sam stared, and Liv laughed at the slightly scandalized look on his face. "What?" She asked. "I have eyes. That boy turns heads everywhere he goes. Always has."

 _You have no idea._ Dean was turning heads long before he had any idea what it really meant.

"Jenna," Sam said gesturing towards the picture as if it had been her he was looking at all along, his words sincere. "She's beautiful."

Liv's eyes softened and strayed to the picture. "Yes. She was." 

Sam didn't expect the quiet moment of reflection that followed and gathered he had caught her off-guard.

Dean entered a moment later in blue sleep pants and a clingy white tank, towel draped over his shoulder, looking sleepy and relaxed. With perfect timing, Isabella's DVD ended just as goodbyes were exchanged. When she hugged Sam's legs, he kneeled down and kissed her forehead goodnight. He met Dean's gaze and gave a nod before following Liv out the door. 

"Sam." 

He paused at Dean's voice, turning to face him.

Dean ducked his head a little, looking at him with an endearing mixture of shy vulnerability that had Sam's heart skipping a beat in response. "Thanks."

Sam smiled, dimple flashing. 

"Anytime."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The basis of this chapter was the bunny that spawned the whole fic. Turned into more of a monster than I had anticipated.


	7. Daddy's Back Pocket

They drove in silence for a few miles, Liv unusually preoccupied.

"Hey,” Sam’s voice was apologetic. "I'm sorry if I caught you off guard back there." 

"Oh," She seemed suddenly startled by her silence, only now realizing they'd not spoken a word since leaving Dean and Isabella.

Liv's eyes flickered to him and he could tell she was tempted to downplay her emotions or not acknowledge them at all. His respect for her increased when she didn't do either.

Her eyes returned to the road, contemplatively. After a moment she spoke. "It does catch me off guard sometimes - how much I miss her."

Sam nodded, subtly turning his body towards Liv but keeping his eyes on the road.

"Jenna is the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last before I sleep. To lose a child..."

She stopped abruptly and Sam lowered his head at the emotion in her voice, giving her whatever time she needed.

"We had such little time together as friends, Jenna and I." Liv's voice was steady again, speaking fondly of her daughter. "There are so many things I find myself wanting to share with her, something adorable that Isabella did or something funny that Dean said."

Sam nodded in the darkness.

"I feel the pain of her absence everyday." She shrugged a little in her seat but didn't glance at him. "For the most part, it's become a dull ache that I've learned to live with, but occasionally, out of the blue...it takes my breath away."

"I'm sorry,” Sam said in response to the emotion that once again filled Liv's voice. 

Liv gave him a quick smile, eyes bright. "No, I'm sorry. Here I go unloading on you again." She laughed a little then added, "You, young man, are very easy to talk to. But you don't want to hear this. I'm sorry, Sam."

"Don't be,” Sam assured her sincerely. "It's okay, really." And while his next comment was for levity, it was actually extremely accurate. "I seem to have that effect on people."

Liv laughed again, a little less teary-eyed, as Sam intended. "I'd have to agree with you there," she said.

Despite his genuine fondness for Liv, Sam managed to feel a heel for latching on to the opportunity presented. For weeks he had been waiting for the appropriate time to gather more personal information on Jenna and her relationship with Dean, and now that it was here, he sure as hell wasn't going to waste it. 

As they drove through the center of town, Sam casually asked, "Would you like to grab a cup of coffee?" At her sideways glance Sam added, “I’m a great listener."

Liv nodded after a moment and then made the left hand turn that would take them to the local Dunkin Donuts. "I think that's a great idea." And Sam suddenly got the impression, by her tone of voice, that he wasn't the only one with an agenda.

At nearly 8:30 pm, they had the place pretty much to themselves. Once Liv had her small decaf with cream and sugar and he his half-caf, double vanilla latte they seated themselves at a small table near a window in the corner. Sam waited for Liv to either pick up where she left off or take the conversation in whatever direction she wanted. 

"Jenna was a nurse. Did you know that?" She asked after a few moments of silence.

"No." Yes. Sam regretfully lied. "I didn't." He wanted Liv to give him as much information as possible with no assumptions as to what he may or may not know.

Liv nodded. "These headaches of Dean's...he hasn't had them for a very long time. Jenna - she'd always been there before. She knew how to deal with them, how to take care of him."

She looked a little uncomfortable sharing things that were considered private, but Sam could tell she was working her way beyond that.

"She was so good with him, Sam. Jenna knew exactly what to do. I guess it just hit me all of a sudden that she won’t be there to help him this time. I just...I don't know what to do." 

The admission obviously left her feeling helpless.

"From what I've seen you're quite good with him." Granted it had only been that one brief moment during Sunday dinner that he'd witnessed, but Liv had calmed, soothed and supported his brother through the entire ordeal.

Grateful, she smiled mildly, clearly recalling the incident in which Sam was referring, “That was minor. Sam..." Liv's voice was grave, held a level of fear that put Sam on edge. "They could get much, much worse. If it's anything like before..."

Sam's brows rose nearly to his hairline in frustration when Liv trailed off. Clearly, she wasn't as comfortable with the discussion as he'd thought. 

"Before?" he prompted, watching as she hesitated. 

"It's complicated," Liv said apologetically, "and not my story to tell." Sam realized that it wasn't that she was uncomfortable, just that she didn't want to betray Dean's confidence. He was fairly certain Liv was aware of the amnesia - something like that was pretty hard to hide - but he was equally certain that she knew nothing of Jenna's deal with John.

Sam did his best to hide his disappointment, not entirely sure he succeeded. He knew what happened to Dean, knew better than Liv did the specifics of his injuries - he'd just been hoping for some details.

"Fair enough," he conceded, letting it go. But he wasn't ready to give up entirely. "So, Jenna was a nurse?"

More than happy to talk about her daughter, Liv's face again lit up at Jenna's name. "She was," she said proudly, and then to Sam's satisfaction added, "in fact, that's how she and Dean met. Jenna was his nurse."

"Really?" Sam leaned forward, elbows on the table, large hands wrapped around his cup, entire body conveying his interest.

"She was good, too." Liv shook her head, as if amazed at that. "The sad thing is, I don't think I ever would have believed it if I hadn't seen her in action with my own eyes." 

Sam tipped his head, brows quirking in confusion, at her comment.

"When Jenna was a child we used to have these discussions about what she wanted to be when she grew up," Liv explained. "The answers I got never ceased to amaze me. It was always 'a paratrooper' or something crazy like 'a stunt woman' or a whale trainer at Sea World. I just never knew what she was going to come up with." Sam laughed at that and couldn't help but think of Dean.

"I asked her once 'why not something practical like a nurse?'" Liv looked at him, her eyes sad. "She scoffed at the time, saying it was too ordinary and that she wasn't cut out to take care of other people." 

Sam took another sip of his coffee, being careful not to interrupt, letting Liv control the flow of the conversation.

"I never told her so, but I agreed with her at the time." Liv said quietly. "I didn't say it, but I think she knew what I thought."

Liv took a sip of her coffee and looked out the window for a long time.

"I loved my daughter, Sam." Pulling her eyes from the passing traffic, she looked at Sam. "But I spent a lot of time not liking her very much. Jenna was spoiled, self-centered and rebellious. Before Ramsey died, she was already well on her way to trouble, hanging out with the wrong people, getting suspended from school, experimenting with drugs." 

She shook her head sadly, admitting, "I don't know how that happened. I mean we did everything right, at least, we tried to. Jenna grew up in a loving home with two parents. We gave her all of things we never had as children, offered her constant love and support, but none of that seemed to matter. Nothing we did seemed to matter. It's like she was hell bent on a path of destruction that we were helpless to stop."

"That had to be rough,” Sam empathized, a little surprised at what he was hearing.

"I never realized exactly how much of a buffer Ramsey was between Jenna and me until he was gone. When he died, everything just sort of fell apart." Then Liv admitted, "I fell apart. I retreated from everyone and everything - including Jenna."

Liv's guilt and shame was obvious. "When she needed me the most, I wasn't there for her."

Trying to be understanding Sam said, "You were dealing with your own grief."

"That's what I told myself, but I knew she was hurting, I knew she needed me." Liv sat back as if distancing herself. "I was the parent, Sam. It was my job to overcome petty indifferences and bridge that gap between us." 

There really wasn't much Sam could say to that, so he remained silent.

"I realized that eventually and tried to reach out to her." Liv shook her head ruefully. "It was too little, too late. I'd already lost her."

At the questioning quirk of Sam's brows, Liv continued. "While I was drowning my sorrows in isolation, Jenna turned to more recreational and illegal means of numbing her pain."

"Drugs?" Sam asked, trying to keep his voice non judgmental.

"Drugs and other things I'm sure I'm better off not knowing about." The tone of Liv's voice indicated she knew exactly what, or more likely whom, those other things were. 

"She dropped out of school halfway through her senior year,” Liv sighed in remembered disappointment. "We had quite the go-round about that one."

Sam listened to the slow downward spiral of a mother/daughter relationship that had never been all that strong to begin with.

"When Jenna pawned some of my jewelry, most of which had more sentimental than monetary value, to buy drugs - I'd finally had enough. I threatened to have her committed to a rehabilitation facility. She was only seventeen at the time - and very aware that I could do so against her will."

"That must have gotten her attention,” Sam said and then asked, "What'd she do?" 

Liv's eyes watered but no tears fell. It took her a moment to answer. "She ran."

Sam's surprise must have been evident. 

"For eight months, I had no idea where she was."

"God," Sam said in commiseration. "You must have been worried sick."

That was an understatement by the look Liv gave him.

"To this day I still don't know where she went or who she was with - but I do know that someone took care of her." It was obvious that Liv had mixed feelings about that. "Even years later when we were able to talk about some of this stuff, she refused to elaborate about where she was at that time."

Sam made a small sound in the back of his throat, mirroring Liv's curiosity.

"Then one day I came home from work and there she was,” Liv said, an echo of that long ago surprise evident, “sound asleep on the couch."

Liv took a sip of her coffee only to realize her cup was empty. Sam offered her another but she declined.

"She slept for days,” Liv recalled, a faraway look in her eyes. "When we were finally able to talk, she informed me that she was clean and that she'd managed to get her GED."

Sam heard a sadness in Liv's voice that spoke of another hurdle. 

"She told me she wanted to become a nurse and asked for my help in getting into the right school."

"Wow, that's quite a turn around,” Sam noted. 

"It was," Liv looked away again, then, "I didn't believe her." 

Sam winced inwardly, imagining the conflict that likely arose.

"So much had happened; she'd broken my trust so many times. I wanted so badly to believe her, to believe in her...I just couldn't."

"What happened?" Sam asked softly. 

"Jenna didn't react the way I'd expected her to. She was angry and upset, of course, but not malicious or vindictive like she had been. We both said things we shouldn't have, things that haunted me for years, but what I remember most about that conversation is the fire in her eyes." A beat of silence. "I mistook it for more rebellion." Liv gave a small humorless laugh. "In hindsight I realized it was determination."

Sam regarded her curiously.

"One of the last things she said to me was _‘I'm gonna prove you wrong, Mamma’_." Liv's voice filled with emotion once again.

There was no blocking the tears this time; they rolled down Liv's face unchecked. "I can't tell you how many mornings I woke up regretting that one." Sam reached for some napkins, handing them to her. She took them with a watery smile and a sniffle. 

"When I came home from work the next day, she was gone." Liv dried her tears, eyes red-rimmed as she looked at him. "I didn't see her again for nearly four years, until she showed up on my doorstep one morning with Dean."

"Four years?" Sam's surprise was evident, keeping with the thread of Liv's story rather than fishing for details about Dean that he hoped would unravel naturally. "That's a bit extreme." He ignored his brother's voice in his head. He was not a hypocrite. His situation was entirely different. 

_Hypocrite._

"That was Jenna,” Liv said with equal parts fondness and exasperation. "My baby never did anything by halves."

Happy to see Liv smiling again, the corner of Sam's mouth quirked in response.

 _"'Hi, Mamma, this is Dean.'"_

"Not so much as a call or a post card the entire time she was gone and she just looks at me, full of hope and fear, and still that damn thread of defiance in her eyes.

The girl had gall, Sam would give her that. "What'd you do?"

"What could I do?" Liv asked. "Jenna offered me the opportunity I'd been praying for every single day since she walked out of my life. I took it. Happily."

Sam nodded but remained silent, waiting for her to continue. 

"And Dean...well..." Liv snorted softly, affectionately. "I dare anyone to defy that boys God-given charm," she said with a shake of her head.

"Won you over pretty easily, did he?" Sam's laughter was genuine and warm. 

"He did - not that he had to try,” Liv explained. "Jenna made it very clear that they were a package deal. I knew if I wanted my daughter in my life that I had to make room for Dean as well."

"Did she say that?" Sam asked curiously.

"She didn't have to." Liv met his gaze steadily. "I saw it in her eyes when she looked at him, in her touch when she held him."

Despite his best efforts, Sam felt a small, residual flare of jealousy.

"Had I even hinted at disapproval, I'm certain she would have disappeared from my life once and for all. I wasn't about to take that chance." 

"I'm glad everything worked out okay." Sam said.

"Oh, it was far from smooth sailing,” Liv continued. "Jenna and I had a lifetime of hard feelings and miscommunication to overcome, and poor Dean ended up taking on the role of referee more often than not. That in itself was a blessing that I soon came to rely on."

"How's that?" Sam asked. 

"Dean never took sides. Never raised his voice. And..." Liv's voice and brows rose, conveying her surprise. "He was a voice of reason that Jenna actually listened to."

"Really?" Sam had to admit, it was fascinating to learn about Dean from someone else's point of view.

"It was like Dean was given this instructional handbook for Jenna that I should have been given at birth,” Liv said without rancor. "He could read her better than I ever could. One word from him and her entire demeanor changed."

Sam could tell that this was something that to this day still managed to amaze Liv.

"Of course, they completely turned my life upside down,” Liv said in a tone indicating that she wouldn't have it any other way. "Dean was fresh out of the hospital. Jenna had given up her job in Atlanta. Everything they owned was crammed into the back of the Impala. They stayed with me for almost six months while Jenna looked for another nursing position and they found a place of their own. Then there was the wedding, the pregnancy, the baby..."

Sam responded to the nostalgia in Liv's voice. "Sounds wonderful." 

Guard down, he sounded wistful. Sam cursed his lapse when Liv's gaze sharpened imperceptibly.

"It was, it really was. They were so in love, Sam." He dipped his head in acknowledgement, happy for Dean in a way that was almost painful. "Dean showed me a side of my daughter that I'd never seen before. That I don't think I ever would have seen were it not for him. Jenna was loving and gentle and caring, truly content and happy for the first time in her life. All because of Dean. He brought out the best in her." A heartbeat of a pause. "Together - they were beautiful."

The faraway look in Liv's eyes slowly morphed into one of devastation. "And then one night...it was all just...ripped away."

She had to glance away from the sympathy she saw on Sam's face.

"It was a drunk driver?" Sam asked, sensing that Liv needed to talk just as much as he needed to know the details about what really happened.

She nodded. "I've known Ed, Sheriff Lansing," Liv clarified, "since high school. He came to me first. Woke me up just after 2 am Saturday morning."

Liv pulled back, scrubbed at her face, trying to distance herself from the raw ache of too painful memories.

"We went to Dean together." Her voice faltered and she paused for a long time. "Jenna was filling in for someone else, so she wasn't working her usual shift. She'd called Dean on her cell as she was leaving the hospital just before midnight. They spoke until she hit the dead spot on 26." Sam was familiar with the nearly three mile stretch on route 26 to and from Millidge that got no cell reception. He'd lost a call with John, one of the few times he'd actually called, that first time he'd tailed Dean to the university. "The last thing she said to him was 'I love you.'"

Her voice broke again and a few hot tears slipped out. Sam reached for more napkins. Liv sat there, silently replaying the events of that fateful night.

"Dean knew. As soon as he saw my face he knew." Liv met his gaze again. "He was waiting up for her. Whatever he saw in my eyes wiped away any hope that Jenna had merely run out of gas or had a flat tire or encountered some other inconvenience that would explain why she wasn't home yet.

Sam swallowed past the growing lump in his throat.

"It wasn't until he fell to his knees and Bella started crying that I realized she had been sound asleep in the Impala."

Sam tipped his head curiously.

"He was on his way to look for her,” Liv said, mirroring Sam's thoughts with her next words. "Thank God we got there first. If he had come across the accident scene...."

Liv couldn't even finish the thought. Sam didn't want her to. He could only imagine the level of devastation and grief at such a loss.

"If it weren't for Isabella, I really believe I would have lost both of them that night." Liv continued and Sam wasn't sure if he was grateful or disappointed that Liv didn't expand on the details of such a statement. He recalled John saying something similar.

"Izzy is the only thing that kept Dean anchored to the world of the living when Jenna died." Sam noted the affectionate use of Dean's beloved nickname. "He'd have drowned in grief and sorrow if not for her. She was his lifeline."

"Thank God,” Sam choked quietly then clarified when Liv studied him,"...that he had something to hold on to."

"Dean took care of Isabella,” Liv continued matter-of-factly with a little shrug, “and I took care of him." 

She looked so tired and emotionally spent that Sam instinctively reached to comfort her, placing his large hand over hers on the table. "I'm sorry." _Thank you for taking care of my brother_. He was so grateful to Liv for being the loving and supportive presence that she was, that Dean needed her to be.

Liv's other hand covered his, squeezing briefly before Sam withdrew. "We've come a long way since then."

"How long has it been?" Sam asked, knowing the answer, wanting to keep Liv talking. Still feeling guilty about it  
.  
"A year and a half." Liv's voice was returning to normal as she pulled herself together. "Just over a year and a half."

Sam nodded, head lowered.

"It hasn't gotten easier, but each day it's a little more bearable." Liv was fully in control again, emotions tucked safely away. "Watching Isabella grow, seeing Dean smile again...that's what keeps me going."

"It must have been confusing for Isabella. Did she understand what was going on at all?" Sam asked, for the first time truly recognizing the tragic connection they shared.

"She responded to our emotions more than anything. She was still so young - barely eighteen months. She missed her mamma I'm sure, but there was no way for her to fully comprehend what happened."

"Maybe that's a good thing,” Sam said, not really sure of that himself. He had no real memories of Mary, just the knowledge that she existed. It wasn't the same for Dean and especially John. He wasn't sure who was better off in that scenario.

"At the time, it was a blessing," Liv concurred. "But as she grows, it will become less of one. All she'll have of her mama is what Dean and I share with her. She'll never have any real memories of her own. Bella will never remember what it felt like when Jenna held her, or sang to her, or looked at her like she was the most beautiful thing ever created.

Sam didn't have any words of comfort for Liv. He knew all too well that she was exactly right. Isabella would grow up with an idealized version of Jenna that she would never fully understand or relate to, just as he had with Mary. 

"It's a poor substitute, but I've been working on a video library for Dean and Isabella for nearly a year now. It's almost finished." Liv said with a sense of sad accomplishment. "I bought a camcorder for the wedding and I don't think I put it down until..."

She trailed off, not bothering to finish. They both knew when.

"Jenna used to get so irritated with me,” Liv remembered with a little laugh. "Every time she turned around - there I was with the camera. It got to be a real sore spot at one point in her pregnancy." 

"I bet,” Sam responded thinking of mood swings and weight gain. "How'd you work your way around that?"

"I gave the camera to Dean,” Liv said with a satisfied there's-nothing-she-wouldn't-do-for-him smile that Sam returned.

"I'm sure Isabella will appreciate that one day,” Sam said confidently, thinking of the cherished but faded photo of Mary that he'd taken when he left for Stanford. He would sell that small part of his soul that didn't belong to Dean for just one thirty second clip of his mother doing something as mundane as washing the dishes. Maybe she would seem real to him then - if he could hear the sound her voice, see the light of life in the same long-lashed, beautiful hazel eyes she'd bequeathed to her firstborn.

"Someday," Liv agreed, “when she's ready." 

Sam could feel Liv preparing for the shift in conversation during the brief but comfortable moment of silence that followed. Instinctively he straightened from his slouched position over the table, leaning back as far as his seat would allow. He was guarding himself before he even realized what he was doing. If Liv noticed his emotional distancing, she ignored it.

"So," her attempt to lighten the mood after such a heavy conversation was evident, her voice genuinely sincere. "It's been awhile since you've mentioned your family, Sam. How are they?"

Sam hesitated. He didn't want to lie, especially after Liv had been so open with him.

"I'm sorry,” she said, belatedly realizing by his reaction that she was perhaps being presumptuous. "I didn't mean to pry..."

"No," Sam interrupted. "No. It's okay. Really." Liv had shared so much with him, trusted him, invited him in to her life so readily that he found he couldn't not reciprocate.

"They're fine,” he answered, unaware of exactly how vague he was being until he saw it register on Liv's face. Sheepishly, he added, "It's...we're..." He hated to use the same term Liv used on him earlier, but it was entirely appropriate in this instance. "It's complicated."

The wry smile that pulled at the corner of Liv's mouth told him that the irony was not lost on her. Sam laughed when she tossed his words back at him in response. 

"Fair enough," she agreed, but wasn't entirely willing to let it drop. He was as touched as he was shocked at her next words. "I'll pray for you, Sam. One of the most precious gifts we'll ever have is family. I hope you find your way back to yours."

"Thanks." More than a little self conscious, Sam lowered his eyes. To his knowledge, no one had ever prayed for him before. "I'm working on it."

"Good." Liv said, pleased. "At the end of the day, the people we love are all that really matters, Sam. When Ramsey died, I had so many regrets - things I wished I had said or done when I had the chance. I'm so thankful that with Jenna there was less of that. I plan on making sure I have no regrets with Dean and Isabella. They are the only family I have left."

Were it not for the subtle and likely unintentional hint of ownership in her voice, Liv's words would surely have warmed him. Instead they made Sam feel like the outsider that he was. Dean was his family. His brother. His love. His life. _His_. 

"What about Dean?" Sam asked, hating the ache in his gut that made him feel as if his brother truly was lost to him. "Any family?"

Liv's searching gaze was brief. "No,” She said finally. "Isabella and I are all that he has."

 _For now_ , Sam conceded, feeling sad, determined and grateful all at once.

"Lucky for that,” Sam said genuinely. He could not begrudge this woman for loving his brother.

Liv's smile said she took his words for the compliment they were. Her small hand covered his where it rested on the table. "Thank you, Sam. I didn't realize how much I needed this until now."

His reply was accompanied by a quick flash of dimples, “You're welcome."

**-wWw-**

The following Friday was business as usual at the garage. With an influx in appointments and Dean's specialty auto show customers, he'd asked Sam if he would be willing to work full days instead of half for the remainder of the summer. Sam didn't even bother to pretend he needed time to think about it.

When Sam showed for work at exactly eight o'clock with a fresh cup of the black sludge for which his brother seemed to have a preference from the Handy Store at the edge of town, Dean was already elbow deep in the carburetor of a '68 GTO and had that intense look of concentration on his face that told Sam he was still assessing a potential problem. When he saw Sam, or more precisely, the cup of sweet nectar Sam was holding, the look morphed to one of exaggerated longing.

Sam watched with undisguised awe as Dean knocked back a large gulp of the molten liquid like it was nothing. Seriously. The tips of his fingers were still numb from transporting the scalding beverage. He shook his head and took a small careful sip of his, because really, for sludge it wasn't half bad. Dean gave him a grin that caused his stomach to flutter before turning back to the GTO.

"Rand has your itinerary for the day,” he called back over his shoulder. "We've got a VIP appointment at noon. You okay with a late lunch?" At this he turned, fully facing Sam.

Sam shrugged. "Yeah, sure." Then, "You still wanna hit the gym?"

The hesitation was minute, noticeable because he'd been watching for it. "Ah,” Dean’s gaze bounced away then came back to him, “rain check?"

Sam couldn't temper his concern, heard it filter into his voice. "Sure."

"Hey,” Dean continued. "Whatd’ya say we check out the new Chinese place over on Mollison instead? I got me a craving for some garlic chicken."  
Sam blinked. He'd been expecting more distancing on Dean's part, not a lunch invitation.

Dean's brows drew together at his silence. "My treat for being such a slave driver."

He found his voice when he realized Dean sounded a little uncertain, wondering if perhaps he'd unknowingly offended Sam.

"Sounds great."

Dean nodded, taking another swig of his coffee and was already turning back to the engine he was working on. "Great. It's a date."

Sam took the comment in stride though it did spark a grin that refused to fade and garnered more than one sideways glance from Rand throughout the morning.

Despite the fact that Dean looked perfectly fine, suffering no lingering effects from the severe migraine he'd suffered two days before, Sam kept a close eye on him. They hadn't really talked about what happened at the gym or the migraine that followed since it happened. Not that he hadn't tried.

Yesterday Dean had showed up at his motel room just after seven-thirty in the morning, waking him from a sound sleep. Bleary-eyed and expecting to find the landlord on the other side of the door, Sam had no idea how long he stood gaping at his brother before Dean finally held up his messenger bag and laptop. He had inadvertently left them when Liv offered him a ride back to his car.

Never one to pass up an opportunity when one presented itself, Sam invited Dean in and then excused himself to the bathroom. He left the door open a crack while giving the impression of washing his face and brushing his teeth. Out of habit, he'd taken a room with two beds. The one he'd just climbed out of was unmade; the other was covered with books, clothes and whatever else he'd tossed out of his way. It was exactly like a thousand other rooms they'd shared over the years.

He watched Dean move slowly about the room, curious but trying not to be invasive. He fingered the edge of the gray Henley sticking out of Sam's duffel. Sam wondered if somewhere deep inside Dean knew that it once belonged to him. At some point he looked lost, out of place, unsettled. Sam decided he'd taken long enough, but it was too late. He offered to make some coffee, but his brother declined. He tried to ask if Dean was feeling okay, wanted to work his way up to more probing questions. None of that happened, because Dean was suddenly guarding himself - and it was just as clear that he wasn’t sure why. Their parting was awkward, despite Sam's efforts to put Dean at ease.

It had bothered Sam all day. Despite that, he'd given Dean his space and not called or made any other contact. Thursday was a class day for both of them, but while Dean's was an evening class, the class Sam taught was slated for late afternoon. At best they ended up passing each other on the road as they came and went from their respective destinations. So Dean's warm reception and lunch invitation this morning went a long way in assuring Sam he hadn't alienated his brother.

The morning came and went quickly with the various odds and ends that Dean and Rand had laid out for him. A little after 11 am Dean fired up the GTO, revved it up a few times and eased it out of the bay for a test run. He returned fifteen minutes later with a grin that said loud and clear _I am the man_. Sam and Rand exchanged indulgent looks. They already knew that.

Dean climbed out of the car but left it idling as he popped the hood. Sam and Rand joined him, all three gazing at the purring perfection before them. Dean's trained ear apparently sensed something still amiss that Sam could not. His brother had just ducked under the hood to make an adjustment when a loud, high-pitched voice echoed through the bay, heard clearly over the running engine, and startled the hell out of all three of them. 

"Dean Matthews!"

Dean jumped, hissing in pain as his head collided with heavy unforgiving metal.

“Tell me that wasn’t you that just flew by me going Mach 20.”

They all turned, Sam debating on whether or not he wanted to edge in front of Dean. He wasn’t sure he wanted the look currently trained at Dean focused on him.

Dean smiled, rubbing the back of his head. He looked unperturbed at the ire directed at him. “Mach 20? More like Mach 10. Definitely within legal limits,” he assured.

“I swear. Boys and their toys.” She threw Sam and Rand a guilty-by-association glare. “Tell me you don’t drive like that with that baby girl of yours in the car. “ 

Sam took offense at the insinuation, but it didn’t seem to bother Dean. “Are you kidding? Izzy B loves to fly. The faster the better.”

“And why doesn’t that surprise me?” their huffy guest responded. “Like father, like daughter.”

“Hey,” Dean looked offended, but didn’t sound it. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

With those words the woman before them softened, her entire demeanor changing. “Well,” she said in a less demanding tone, “she could do a lot worse than her papa for an example.” Then a reluctant concession, “I guess.”

The beginnings of a smirk played at the edge of her lips. Dean's mouth twitched in response.

“Missouri,” he addressed her affectionately, “you’re early.”

“I’m never early. I arrive precisely when I mean to.” She bustled closer, invading Dean's personal space. "Now come give me a hug, baby. It's been far too long."

Sam stepped back out of the way, brows lost in his hairline. The woman went from sounding like she wanted to turn his brother over her knee to talking to him like he was made of glass. Baby? Who is this woman to call his brother _Baby?_

Missouri turned a well-timed glare on him that had his eyes widening and he took another step back. Rand's hand on his shoulder blocked further retreat. "That's Missouri," he informed Sam. "She comes through twice a year on her way to see her sister or aunt or someone… She broke down out on route 26 a few years ago and had to get towed in for some repairs. Took quite the shine to Dean. Been coming back ever since."

Sam watched as Dean returned the hug and the two chatted away like long lost friends, until he caught sight of Sam and Rand and suddenly realized he'd not made introductions. Missouri followed his gaze. 

"Good to see you, Rand. How's that wife of yours doing? Did she ever get that promotion?" Missouri took the couple of steps that brought her to Sam and Rand, firing off questions quicker than Rand could answer. Inevitably, her gaze settled on Sam.

"And who is this?" she asked, continuing before anyone could answer. Missouri took in the three of them and tsked, her frank gaze sliding head to toe. "My, my, my but the three of you are handsome devils, mmm, hmmm, I’ll bet you get your fair share of female clientele here, don’tcha, Darlin’?” she tossed a look back over her shoulder at Dean and then proceeded to check Sam out in fine order. “Can't say as I blame 'em either." Dean seemed pretty immune to Missouri's rambling and just waited for an opening. "Dean sweetie, you going to introduce me to this young man or not?"

He decided to get both introductions out of the way at once. "Missouri Mosely meet Sam Winchester." Sam was about to extend his hand when the bell above the door in the office signaled a customer.

“I’ve got it,” Rand said with a hand to Dean’s shoulder as he passed.

"I'll let Liv know you're here,” Dean said to Missouri before turning off the GTO and disappearing upstairs.

Sam watched him go before his gaze was drawn back to the woman before him. His small smile disappeared at the somber look on her face. “Ah,” Sam was uncomfortable under such intense scrutiny. He pushed past it, extending his hand, “pleasure to meet you ma’am.”

His discomfort increased when she just looked at him. “Ah,” Sam withdrew his hand and scratched the back of his neck. Rand’s voice was low in the office as he explained a work order to the customer picking up his vehicle.

“What in hell do you think you’re doing, Sam Winchester?” Missouri finally asked, her voice pitched low.

Sam blinked, dumfounded.

"Did you or did you not tell your Daddy you would keep in touch with him?" She glared at him. "He hasn't heard from you in almost a month."

Sam was speechless. "Well?" She looked irritated. "Speak up."

"Ah..."

"You have no idea what you're doing, do you?" Missouri's words were more statement than question.

It was sneaking up on him slowly, but he was getting irritated himself. "How do you know my father?"

"That's a story for another time, Sugar. We haven't got time for that now..." When she would have continued, Sam firmly interrupted.

"Make time." Sam's voice was low, urgent. "Who are you? How do you know my family?"

Missouri reassessed him coolly but with a new measure of respect. Apparently it only went so far. "I used to change your diapers, young man. Don't you take that tone with me."

"Sorry,” he conceded, sensing correctly he would get nowhere with this woman without adhering to proper manners. "Tell me, please." 

"Sam,” Her voice lost the chill. "This really isn't the time. You're gonna have to ask your daddy to fill you in. I'm more concerned about that brother of yours right now."

"Dean?" Sam asked surprised. "Why? What do you mean?"

Missouri rolled her eyes. "I know you're playing with fire, Sam Winchester. That boy has been through hell and back and doesn't need you messing with his head. There's no telling what kind of damage will come of this." 

Sam took care to keep his tone even. "Look, I appreciate your concern and I can tell you care about my brother, but this is really none of your business. I know what I'm doing."

Missouri looked at him for a long moment. "Well, aren't you just a chip off the old block."

Sam wasn't sure if that was an insult or not; he suspected it was. Was it too much to ask for just a little support? He knew he was doing the right thing. He could feel it in his heart. Some of the helplessness he felt bled into his voice. "I love my brother. I just want to be a part of his life." 

"I know you do, Sugar,” Missouri said. "And as careful as I know you're trying to be with him, you're still forcing the issue. Dean may never be ready to face that part of his life again." 

"If that's the case, then I'll deal with it." He added with finality, "I'm not going anywhere."

She wasn't happy about it, but Missouri seemed to accept that nothing she said was going to change his mind. "I know he doesn't look it, but he's still very fragile, Sam." She looked deep into his eyes. "He really loved her."

 _He loved me like that once, too._ "I know he did."

"We're going to run out of time here, sweetie." Missouri touched his arm, and something in her voice drew his gaze. "He still loves you, Sam." Her tone was knowing, blessedly understanding, so much so that he completely missed just how intuitive to his thoughts this woman was. "You just keep following your heart. It may take time, but I have a feeling things will work out for the best." 

While grateful, Sam was incredulous at the change in her attitude.

"What? I told your daddy I would try and I did,” Missouri said matter-of-factly. "That man's as stubborn as the day is long. Thinks his way is the only way." When she shook her head in true exasperation, it finally sunk in just how well this woman knew his father.

When he would have agreed, she cut him off. "I know it isn't always obvious, but he loves you boys. He's worried, Sam." Dean and Liv were descending the stairs behind them. Missouri dropped her chin and gave him a hard stare. "You call your daddy, you hear?"

"Missouri,” Liv welcomed warmly, giving the woman a brief hug. "How was your trip?"

Sam schooled his expression when Dean gave him a searching look, eyebrows rising in question. _You okay?_

He smiled and played it off as best he could. The few moments he'd spent with Missouri had both unsettled him and bolstered his determination that he was doing the right thing.

"I've got my cell if you need me,” Liv said as she and Missouri headed out for an afternoon of lunch and shopping.

They were almost out the door when Missouri suddenly paused. "Oh." She turned to address them. "Dean, sweetie, did you ever call that old friend of mine I told you about?"

Dean had to think about it before the light finally went on. "Oh, yeah....ah...." It took him a minute to grasp the actual name. "Singer's Salvage. Yeah, I actually meant to thank you for that contact,” he said a bit sheepishly. "Bobby, he's quite the character."

Missouri pointedly did not look at Sam. "He's a good man, Bobby Singer. He get you that part you were looking for?"

"He did," Dean responded. "And a few others since. If he can't find it, I'm not sure it exists."

Missouri smiled, sparing Sam a glance filled with shared secrets. "You give that baby girl of yours a kiss for me, you hear?"

Dean gave a nod and a wave to them both as he went back to work. "Enjoy yourselves, ladies."

Sam and Rand were an hour into the tune-up on Missouri's car when Dean slammed the hood down on the GTO and joined them. "I don't know about you two, but I’m starving. Let's eat." 

Sam had been listening to Rand's stomach growl for the last twenty minutes. His wasn't faring much better.

"Sounds good." 

They had all just washed their hands when Dean's cell went off. Sam watched as his brow furrowed at the number.

"Yeah, Chloe, what's up? Everything okay?" 

Sam and Rand paused, listening to the conversation.

"How high?" 

Dean nodded, his concern noticeably increasing.

"I’m on my way," Dean said decisively. "Can you have her ready for me?" He listened for a few more seconds. "Yeah, I’ll call Dr.Ketner’s office on the way.” Another pause. “Thanks.”

“Everything okay?” Sam asked as Dean slid his cell back into his pocket.

“Izzy B’s got a fever. Chloe thinks she may have an ear infection.”

“Ouch,” Sam said. He’d been prone to them as a child and remembered how painful they could be.

“Yeah. We’re gonna have to hit the pediatrician to see if she needs antibiotics.” Dean was already edging towards the exit and the Impala.

“Want me to call Liv?” Rand asked.

“No. I’ll give her a call later,” Dean said, then ordered on his way out, “Go to lunch!”

“Hey, Dean,” Sam called after him. “Let me know….if, you know, like need…anything. Anything at all.” He hated it when he stumbled over his words, but it was his sincerity that he most wanted to convey.

Dean paused long enough to give him a look and a slight nod. “Yeah, sure.” Grateful, he replied, “Thanks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hated how Missouri treated Dean in canon. This was my attempt to fix that :)


	8. The Moon Sees Me

Sam stood on the stoop in front of Dean's door, arms full of take-out and trying to figure out how to ring the doorbell, eventually settling on using his elbow after three failed attempts with his pinky finger. When the packages in his arms shifted, he quickly adjusted his balance to keep the chicken soup he'd picked up for Isabella from sliding off the pyramid of food and hitting the bricks beneath his feet. He ended up having to secure it with his chin just as Dean opened the door.

"Hey," his brother said, surprise evident. 

Sam had thought long and hard about the impromptu visit and decided that their friendship had progressed to a point where such a thing would not be awkward or out of place. He was happy when Dean opened the door in invitation and stepped back so he could enter. 

Sam held up a six pack of bottled beer and Dean took it, leading him into the kitchen. He set the containers of food down on the island between them. 

"I figured you wouldn't have a chance to eat, so I brought you something,” Sam said in response to the semi-curious look on Dean's face. He pointed to one of the packages in way of explanation and said, "Garlic chicken." 

Dean's brows drew together in confusion, then spiked upward in surprise as he recalled the lunch plans they'd made earlier that morning that never happened. Dean's gaze lingered softly and Sam got the impression that his brother was touched. He wasn't sure if it was the gesture itself or the fact that he remembered Dean's favorite dish

"Thanks,” Dean said with a small smile, long lashes sweeping down, jade gaze slipping away. "Beats the hell out of PB and J." 

Since Isabella wouldn't be up for anything resembling solid foods until the following day, Dean put her chicken soup in the fridge and grabbed them each some dishes, silverware and a beer before inviting Sam into the living room. 

"Man," Sam said in concern, getting his first look at Isabella as she lay sleeping on the couch, "she looks really sick." 

Fever-flushed and restless, Isabella shifted away from his voice, tiny blonde ringlets matted and sweat soaked at the scalp. She looked small and incredibly vulnerable. Spooky lay curled in a ball next to her. 

"Yeah," Dean said, "Chloe was right. She's got an ear infection." Dean set his items on the coffee table and settled on the floor in front of the couch with Isabella at his shoulder. He ran a hand over her curls, hand pausing on her forehead to gauge her temperature before adjusting the throw covering her. "Baby girl’s gonna be pretty miserable until the antibiotics kick in." 

Sam damn near melted at the endearment and tender touch that came so naturally to his brother. He took a seat opposite Dean on the floor, watched as Dean, who had apparently been doing homework before he arrived, quickly closed his books and set them aside to make room for the food. At the end of the coffee table were a thermometer, some children's Tylenol, a pint size, half-empty container of grape flavored Pedialyte and a box of tissues. 

While Sam was well versed in first aid and had taken care of both Dean and Dad in the midst of some fevered infections, taking care of a sick child was, for him, totally different. He wasn’t sure he would know exactly what to do. Dean seemed pretty prepared and ready to deal with just about anything. Of course, he'd had plenty of experience. Sam wasn't sick often as a child, but nine times out of ten, if he was, it was Dean who did the tending. 

Dean took a long swallow of his beer and was already dishing garlic chicken and white rice from the take-out container to his plate. Sam watched as he dug in without preamble and with the single-minded intensity of one who had apparently skipped lunch altogether and was only now realizing how hungry he was. More interested in the company than the food, Sam was slower to serve himself. However, he noticed that when Dean had enough in his belly to take the edge off his hunger, he surreptitiously watched as Sam methodically prepared his shrimp egg foo yung. 

Sam had to admit, he'd always been a tad ritualistic when it came to eating. He was one of those people that just had to have his food a certain way to fully enjoy it. He could and would eat just about anything, had learned the hard way growing up to eat when food was available as the three square meal a day rule just did not apply in the Winchester household. He couldn't control when he ate, but he could control how he ate it. 

Preferably, none of his food should be touching. Peas could touch peas of course, for example, but peas should never touch potatoes. He could tolerate it if necessary, as such a thing did tend to happen from time to time. Admittedly, though, it bothered him more than was likely appropriate. It was a quirk Dean had taken great pleasure in razzing him about but tended to indulge whenever he was the one doing the cooking.

Sam stacked three of his shrimp and egg patties and cut them into bite size pieces before spreading them evenly over his plate. He took care to drizzle the thick brown sauce in equal amounts over each piece before finally taking his first bite. 

Dean was openly watching him at this point. "Dude, that's gross." 

Sam chuckled and asked, "Have you ever tried egg foo yung?" 

The look he gave Sam was a resounding no - followed by a not in this lifetime.

"Did you know that egg foo yung is actually one of the earliest omelets in existence, invented long before the French coined the term?" Dean, who had just taken a bite of food, paused in his chewing, eyes widening imperceptibly as Sam continued. "Foo yung actually translates to lotus flower..."

Dean's brows inched slowly to his hairline at that. He began to nod slowly around his mouthful of food, trying to decide if he should be politely fascinated by this information. Sam’s eyes sparkled. He could just imagine the litany of thoughts running through Dean's head

"Huh," was all Dean said.

Sam grinned, stabbed three or four pieces of his dinner with a fork, and took a huge bite. If he looked happier than anyone eating egg foo yung had a right to be, then so be it. He'd missed this. He would never have admitted so to his brother, but half the reason he'd tended to hoard these little tidbits of odd information was for the sole purpose of seeing that expression on Dean's face. That he was a naturally curious individual and Google was way too accessible in the wee hours of the morning was entirely secondary to the reaction this type of information usually garnered from his brother. 

He focused on his food, acutely aware of the glances Dean kept throwing at him when he thought Sam wasn't looking. They had finished their meal and were halfway through a second beer when Isabella began to stir with a whimper. Spooky lifted his head as Dean picked her up, noticeably disgruntled at the removal of his heat source. Sam watched as Isabella curled into Dean mid-air as he pulled her into his lap.

"Shhhhhhhh," he soothed as fever bright eyes finally opened, his hand running gently over her hair and then in small circles on her back as he tucked her under his chin. Isabella calmed at the touch, snuggling into Dean's embrace. He rocked her for a few minutes, let her wake up a little before giving her another dose of Tylenol and somehow managing to get her to take a few small sips of Pedialyte in which she had no interest. 

Her eyes grazed over Sam at one point and he smiled sympathetically. He saw one of her fingers twitch in the hand that rested on Dean's chest as if she thought to wave but didn't quite have the energy. When Isabella tensed and started to weep quietly at the sharp pain the Tylenol hadn't yet had time to dull, Dean's hand cupped the back of her head. "I know, baby, I know.” His voice was low and pained as he rocked her back and forth and kissed the crown of her head. 

Isabella shifted to his shoulder, hiding her face in the curve of his neck. Dean held her closely, his head resting lightly on hers as he began to softly hum. Sam tilted his head curiously after the first few bars. The tune had the simple easy cadence of a lullaby, but was one that he didn't recognize. Dean got to his feet carefully and walked a slow circular path around the room. Sam settled against the recliner at his back and watched. The medication, movement and the soothing sound of Dean's voice soon had the desired effect. Isabella relaxed against him, limbs dangling, eyes blinking slow and heavy as she fought the healing pull of sleep. It wasn't until Dean started to sing that Sam realized how badly he longed to hear the words that accompanied the whimsical little melody. 

_“I see the moon_

_The moon sees me_

_Down through the leaves of the old oak tree"_

Sam stilled at the smooth, even tempo.

_"Please let the light that shines on me_

_Shine on the one I love.”_

He had forgotten how beautiful Dean’s voice was.

_"Over the mountains_

_Over the sea_

_Back where my heart is longing to be"_

Sam swallowed. 

_"Please let the light that shines on me_

_Shine on the one I love."_

Dean paused at the window, humming once again as he gazed into the fading sunset. He continued to rock Isabella gently, patting her back softly. Sam could tell she was asleep, had been for a few minutes now. Dean seemed content to just hold her, running through the lullaby a couple more times before making his way back to the floor opposite Sam. Instead of depositing her back on the sofa, Dean reached awkwardly for the throw with his free hand. By the time Sam thought to help him he'd already managed to wrap it loosely around Isabella's small frame. The curve of his jaw settled lightly on her head, her tiny hand loose and open where it rested over his heart.

After a long moment Sam noticed that Dean, who wasn't the least bit embarrassed or self-conscious through the entire ordeal, was suddenly looking very uncomfortable. It wasn't until Sam realized that he had been silently gawking for several long minutes that he understood why. 

"I, ah..." Sam cleared his throat, took a sip of beer as he looked away. "I've never heard that song before." His next words encompassed so much more than the simple lullaby. "It's beautiful." 

Their gazes met simultaneously, the sincerity in Sam's voice surprising Dean, who looked away first and then down, the palest of pinks infusing his handsome, angular features. He was quiet for a long moment before responding. 

"It was Jenna's favorite," he said. 

_Oh._ Sam waited in expectant anticipation. This is the first time Dean has ever spoken to him of his late wife, a sign of the trust he'd so slowly and painstakingly worked for. 

"We met in the hospital where she worked," Dean started as Sam reminded himself to breathe. "I was in an accident and was pretty out of it for awhile,” Dean said by way of explanation, and Sam was amazed at his brother's ability to condense the scope and seriousness of his injury down to that one understated yet accurate sentence. 

"I remember waking up and being pretty freaked out because I couldn't move, couldn't talk...couldn't…anything,” Dean continued, not looking at Sam. It was obvious that he wasn't totally comfortable with the discussion, but it was nearly as obvious that Dean needed someone to talk to. "I think I was on the verge of panicking...” When Dean flashed him a small self-conscious smile, still not quite looking at him, Sam held in check the urge to reach out to him. "Then I heard her voice..."

 

_I see the moon_

_The moon sees me..._

 

"She sang to me for hours." Dean was quiet as he gazed into the distance, lost within the memory. "I think it's the only thing that kept me sane." 

_Back where my heart is longing to be..._

"Let me guess,” Sam gently prompted after a long stretch of silence. "Voice of an angel?"

During the weeks leading up to this point, Sam had come to terms with his feelings for Jenna. The occasional flare of jealousy continued to take him by surprise when he wasn't paying attention, but for the most part Sam found himself grateful to her for healing his brother in ways that went well beyond the physical. 

The corner of Dean's mouth twitched and Sam caught a rueful and telling smile before he ducked his head, his words filled with loyal and loving affection. "Something like that." Which actually sounded a lot more like not exactly. 

For some reason, the unspoken implication that Jenna wasn’t perfect, even in Dean's eyes, made her all the more real and likeable to Sam. 

"She centered me, you know?" Dean continued, looking at him once again. "Gave me something to focus on." 

Sam nodded, unwilling to speak any more than necessary for fear it would break the spell. He'd waited so long for Dean to open up to him. Jenna was, of course, the first person his brother saw upon waking. Sam listened for close to an hour as Dean recounted a myriad of seemingly innocuous details that catalogued his growing love for the nurse. He listened raptly and smiled in all the right places, knowing, perhaps better than Dean did, just how very much his brother needed this, how important a step it was in the healing process. 

Yet it also, albeit inadvertently on Dean's part, gave Sam a glimpse into the rather lengthy and grueling recovery that his brother had endured. Dean never focused on any specifics regarding himself, but it became all too clear to Sam that Jenna was the deciding factor that made what would have been an unbearable set of circumstances...bearable. While Dean remembered how to walk and to talk, the trauma he suffered affected how his brain relayed that information to his body. With time, his speech corrected itself, but he'd essentially had to learn to walk all over again. 

Knowing he was taking a chance by shifting the focus from Jenna to Dean, Sam finally ventured, "Sounds like you were in pretty bad shape." His hope was that Dean would trust him enough to tell him everything. 

Dean paused. Sam could see in his eyes the realization that he'd revealed much more about himself than intended. 

Sam knew he'd made a mistake when the open unguarded expression on Dean's face immediately closed and he looked away. 

_Damn._ Sam's jaw tightened, disappointed and angry with himself for pushing. 

As if sensing Dean's discomfort, Isabella shifted in her father's arms. She woke slowly, blinking at Sam before looking up at Dean. Sam watched as their eyes met, witnessed their silent communication as understanding and then acknowledgment dawned in Dean's eyes. Dean leaned forward and touched his nose to Isabella's before rising to his knees. Isabella straightened her legs, feet searching for the floor, apparently deciding that she was perfectly capable of walking. She did however take Dean's hand once he got to his feet.

"Potty break,” Dean said quietly to Sam over his shoulder as he led her from the room. Pointing with his chin at the beer in Sam's hand he asked, "You want another?"

"I'm good, thanks,” Sam said. He'd never seen Dean drink more than two beer in Isabella's presence and figured that was a good guideline to follow. 

Spooky jumped from the couch, stretching his legs out in front of him before trotting after Dean and Isabella. Sam let his head fall back against the recliner with a sigh. He wasn't used to being so careful with Dean. It was kind of exhausting. He'd always been able to push his way through his brother's defenses with a minimum of resistance, treading carefully only when Dean was hurting physically or emotionally. At one time, Dean's psyche was a minefield he could traverse in his sleep. But without their shared history to fall back on, he had no edge. He'd always had a free pass where Dean was concerned, able to slip through barriers meant for everyone else, but never him. _Never him._

Still, it was progress and Sam wasn't about to balk at that. It had taken Dean weeks to open up about Jenna to him. He would wait as long as he had to for the rest of it. When his brother returned, Isabella was once again in his arms. She was pale as snow with the exception of two bright splotches of color high on her cheeks. The yellow curls were in wild disarray around her small, heart-shaped face. Despite looking frail and very ill, she was wide-eyed and temporarily alert - sleep and Tylenol offering her a brief reprieve from the pain. 

When Dean offered her a choice from the collection of children's DVD's hidden in the cupboard beneath the television, Isabella noticeably perked. She gave careful consideration to her selection before deciding with finality on The Smurfs. 

For close to twenty minutes, Isabella sat imperiously in Dean's lap. Then, out of the corner of his eye, Sam watched as Dean adjusted his posture to suit hers as she ever so slowly folded into the warmth of his chest, the need for more sleep gradually creeping in. The hint of a smile at Gargamel's antics evolved into a full blown giggle at Dean's timely and well done impersonation of the inept sorcerer. Sam could not remember the last time he'd laughed so freely.

**-wWw--**

Dinner at Liv's the following Sunday was low key. High heat and oppressive humidity kept everyone inside where it was cool. Isabella was feeling better but still sleeping more than usual. The air conditioner in the living room was set to its lowest setting and she was wrapped comfortably in a Strawberry Shortcake blanket as she dozed on the sofa.

Sam sat across from Dean at the dining room table as Liv tended the chili and diced veggies for a salad in the kitchen. For close to an hour Sam worked on grading essays as he surreptitiously watched Dean grow more and more frustrated with his homework. Dean was so absorbed in his work that he was oblivious to the occasional shared glances between Sam and Liv as they quietly watched him struggle. 

When Dean dropped his pencil with a defeated sigh and ran a hand through his hair Sam carefully asked, "Everything okay?" 

Dean snorted in obvious irritation. He met Sam's gaze but did not respond. Sam didn't like the helpless frustration he saw there. 

"Something I can help with?" he asked.

Dean dropped his eyes and Sam could practically feel the knee jerk response of 'I'm fine, thanks' lingering in the air around them. Dean looked uncomfortable with Sam's offer, but surprisingly did not voice a refusal. 

Thankfully, Sam wasn't shocked into immobility. He was around the table and sliding into the seat next to Dean before his brother fully realized what he was doing.

"What seems to be the problem?" Sam asked, leaning into Dean's space to survey the rows of neatly lined numbers on the graph paper. 

Dean had never shared what class he was enrolled in, despite some subtle probing on Sam's part. Sam knew, of course, had hacked into Dean's university records months ago, but had been hoping Dean would share it with him freely. His brother had always been a private person about anything personal - Sam just wasn't used to that stipulation extending to him. 

"Bookkeeping?" Sam asked with feigned innocence, glancing from the sheet and back to Dean. He'd had to admit he was a little surprised by this and wondered at the purpose. 

Dean practically squirmed his discomfort. Sam could tell that a classic diversionary tactic and a temporary fleeing of the scene was likely imminent. _Let me help you. Please let me help you._

Something in Sam's expression must have hinted at his inner plea. Dean's guard dropped minutely, eyes slowly roaming the contours of Sam's face, a fine line appearing between his brows. Sam could see the individual curve of each eyelash as his brother studied him. 

When Isabella coughed softly in the other room it was enough to break the momentary connection. 

"I've got her,” Liv said as she retrieved the spill proof sippy cup of juice from the refrigerator and walked past them to the living room. 

Dean shook his head, eyes scanning the ledger. "I can't get the numbers to work out right. I've tried everything I can think of." 

"Mind if I take a look?" Sam asked.

He saw grudging acquiescence in Dean's gaze as he slid the worksheet in Sam's direction. "Have at it." 

Sam was still studying each entry and its components when Liv made her way back through to the kitchen. Algebra was more his specialty but he found accounting straightforward enough to be able to understand its basic language. From what he remembered, Dean was proficient in any type of math that didn't involve letters. Who the hell’s bright idea was that? Sam had given up trying to explain the concept. Dean didn't really care anyway.

He had a general idea what he was looking for and found it in the sixth and ninth entries respectively and then again in the twelfth. For some reason, more so when he was tired, Dean had a tendency to transpose certain numbers when they were paired - four and nine usually being the biggest culprits with three and eight a close second. Sam figured it had something to do with each pair being near mirror images of each other. 

His brother had a unique way of dealing with numbers, able to do most math in his head using a system that only he understood. More often than not, he got the right answer, but couldn't explain how he got there. So he usually didn't bother. As far as Dean was concerned, it was the end result that mattered. 

Unfortunately, Mr. Vose, Dean's sophomore math teacher, didn't agree. When Dean couldn't show his calculations for the nearly perfect score on his mid-terms, the silly man actually accused his brother of cheating. He really didn't blame Dean for decking him. But John decking him? Well, that had been a total and unexpected surprise. It was awesome. Sam actually felt a little resentful that he didn't get a go at the man. 

His brother did not cheat. At math. 

As far as Sam could tell there was some miscue between the information in Dean's head and how it transferred to paper. He didn't completely understand it but he'd learned to recognize it. Dean may see the number 1,849 in his head but what he wrote down was 1,894. In the fine art of bookkeeping, it was enough to throw an entire ledger out of whack - especially if it happened more than once. 

He tactfully pointed it out to Dean and showed him a quick trick, that ironically enough his brother had taught him at the age of 9, to double check his figures. Dean regarded him quietly before returning to his work with an intensity that indicated this particular assignment had become personal. Sam moved back to his seat on the other side of the table, meeting Liv's grateful gaze in the kitchen as he did so. 

Pretending to be engrossed in his grading, Sam focused on the collection of papers in front of him. The brother in him felt the need to stand over Dean’s shoulder and watch, making sure Dean understood the lesson. The teacher in him knew better. Dean had never responded well to that anyway. It was bad enough having your little brother tutor you in the first place. Hovering to make sure it was done right was just asking for an elbow to the gut. 

Ten minutes later Dean dropped his pencil, leaning back in his chair, this time with a relieved sigh. 

“How’d you make out?” Sam asked, brows quirked. 

Dean gave him a small nod, lips parted around a small self conscious smile. “Good, thanks to you,” Dean said seriously. 

Sam took the compliment in silence, glad to be of help. 

Dean dropped his eyes, a small huff of air that may have passed for a laugh escaping him, then, "I must seem pretty stupid to you." 

Peripherally, Sam saw Liv freeze, listening. The statement wasn't meant to be taken seriously, but there was a hint of self deprecation there that hit Sam where it hurt, and enough vulnerability to let him know that Dean really cared about what Sam thought of him. 

"No, Dean. You don't." Sam said gently, but with conviction, leaning forward on the table. "You're one of the smartest people I know." 

Dean was still looking elsewhere but his _yeah right_ expression said it all. Sam wasn't about to let this one go. 

"I've seen what you do for work everyday. It takes skill and knowledge and talent to do what you do. Dean, you can gauge a potential mechanical problem by just listening to an engine idle." Sam let a little of his awe and pride in Dean's abilities color his voice. "You can take apart an entire vehicle and put it back together again, better than it was before you started."

He had Dean's full attention now. 

"It amazes me sometimes, the things you can do with your hands." Sam smiled and dipped his head thinking of his first weeks at Walker's. "As a matter of fact, you must find me fairly ineffective at times."

"Nah,” Dean was noticeably embarrassed by Sam's unexpected praise. "Just inexperienced." 

Dean had made Sam's point for him. "We all have our gifts, man. Doesn't make me any smarter than you."

With a nod of concession, Dean held Sam's gaze, grateful, but unable to voice it. 

"This is also an advance course, Dean, honey." Liv chose that moment to make her presence known, standing behind Dean, hands on his shoulders. "We knew it was going to be a little more difficult than last semester." 

"Yeah," Dean agreed, managing to look chagrined and petulant as he looked up at her. "It's just a lot harder than I thought it was going to be." 

She gave his shoulders a supportive squeeze, hand going to the back of his head as she said, "Dinner's ready. Wake Bella and get her washed up?" 

More than ready to call it quits for the evening, Dean tucked his papers in his book and closed it. "Yes, ma’am," he said with a smirk in Sam's direction, rubbing his head when Liv playfully cuffed him on the way out. 

Liv stood looking at him for a long moment after Dean left. As usual, Sam saw a lot more in her gaze than he wanted to. Finally, she said, "Thank you." 

Sam nodded. 

"He does so much better when it's hands on,” Liv continued. "He's been helping me with the books at Walkers for almost a year now."

"Really?" Sam hoped he didn't sound as surprised as he felt.

"You're so good with him, Sam,” Liv responded without really answering. She had a habit of doing that with him. "I've been working with him for months and haven't been able to explain in all that time the issue with the numbers that you caught in one afternoon. How is that?" 

Shrugging, Sam lied with ease. "Beginner’s luck, I guess." 

Liv continued to watch him speculatively. "Well, whatever the reason, I can't thank you enough."

"Can I ask you a question?" Sam sidestepped the unnecessary gratitude. 

"Sure,” Liv responded. 

"Why the interest in the books?" Sam asked. “Dean has more than enough to keep him busy with repairs and rebuilds. Why would he want to add more to an already full plate?”

"The classes were his idea,” Liv started. "I had planned on utilizing more of an on-the-job training approach. As you may have noticed, Dean's great with numbers, he just happens to have a system that no one understands but him."

Despite the fact that Sam genuinely liked Liv, he tended to internally balk on those occasions when she attempted to explain his brother to him. No one knew Dean better than he did. _No one._

Somehow he managed to not allow those feelings to creep into his voice. "But why...?" he asked, still confused as to Dean's interest in the subject. 

"I'm retiring," she said, finally understanding what piece of the puzzle Sam was missing, “signing over all rights to Walker's to Dean. This time next year he'll be running the business himself. 

Okay. So that explained some things. "Retiring?" 

"From Walker's, yes,” Liv explained. "That was Ramsey's dream, not mine. I kept it going for years when all I wanted to do was sell. I just couldn't do it; it didn't feel right at the time. Now I know why." 

When Sam looked at her curiously Liv lovingly added, "It was meant for Dean." 

If Sam had been undecided about Liv, her words would have swayed him to her favor in that moment. Unknowingly, she had taken a dream that Dean probably didn't even realize that he had and turned it into a reality. 

Sam smiled around the lump in his throat, touched and so very grateful to this woman who'd given his brother a sense of home that had long since been denied. His eyes were a little too bright and his voice a little hoarse when he responded. "Good choice." 

"Well, look who finally decided to wake up,” Liv said brightly as Dean entered with Isabella on his hip. "Come to Gramma, sweetie." 

Sam cleared the table of paperwork as Liv settled Isabella in her booster seat. Dean set the table while Sam poured everyone a drink and Liv transferred the pot of chili to the table. It was a coordinated effort that Sam fell into with ease. Despite his efforts to slowly infiltrate Dean's life, it occasionally snuck up and surprised him just how well he'd succeeded. 

After blessing the meal, Liv and Sam served themselves while Dean and Isabella continued to wait expectantly as if something were missing. 

Apparently it was. Liv's gaze traveled back and forth between them for a moment before she realized what it was. "Oh, good heavens, I knew I was forgetting something." 

Sam added some sour cream and scallions to his chili as Liv returned with a pan of homemade macaroni and cheese. She set the dish in the center of the table between Dean and Isabella. "What was I thinking?" she said, more to herself than anyone, but with a wink in Sam's direction. 

"Perfect,” Dean said as Isabella passed him her bowl, both of them looking very pleased. "Now we can eat." 

Sam watched as Dean scooped a generous Izzy-size portion of mac and cheese into her bowl and topped it with a smaller amount of chili. He repeated the procedure for himself with much larger servings.

Sam's left brow rose as a particular memory resurfaced. Dean caught the look and misinterpreted it. 

"Hey, don't knock it 'til you try it, dude," he said. 

John wasn't the best cook as Sam remembered, but he did okay. Dean was better. However, if there was one dish his father prided himself on it was his chili. And if John Winchester was going to make a big ass pot of chili, he damn well was going to make it the way he liked it. It just so happened he liked it spicy hot enough to set the drapes on fire with a single belch. 

Sam was often resigned to cereal until the pot disappeared over a day or two. Dean came up with a solution of his own to temper the spice and make it more tolerable. Kraft macaroni and cheese. He'd mix it right in with the chili. Just the sight of it was enough to make Sam gag. Dean thought that was funny. It was a disgusting combination and a serious violation of his no touching food rule. _Gross._

"Here,” Dean held a spoonful of mac and cheese over Sam's bowl. 

Sam fought the urge to shield his meal with his hands. "Ah...." 

Thank God for Liv. "Here you go, Sam," she said as she handed him a small dish. His relief must have been obvious, Liv looked as if she were stifling a giggle.

Dean placed the serving on the plate and gave him a sideways glance that spoke volumes. 

_Wuss._

Sam ignored him.

**-wWw-**

Later that evening, leftovers in tow, Liv caught Dean on the way out. "Can I talk to you for a sec, hon?"

"Sure." 

Liv's tone had him curious Sam could tell. Him too. 

He took Dean's containers with his in one hand and led Isabella out to the Impala to buckle her in. It was a good ten minutes before a very quiet Dean joined them and placed a box on the seat between them. 

"Everything okay?" Sam asked, dying to know what was in the box. 

"Yeah," Dean seemed surprised by the question. "I'm good. You?" 

"Dean..." Sam could tell something was wrong. He must have had the let's talk about it tone in his voice because Dean interrupted before he could get any further.

"I'm fine, Sam." It was friendly, but final. _Drop it._

It went against his grain, but Sam let it go. 

When Dean was just as withdrawn the next day at work and the day following that, Sam began to regret that decision. He didn't push though, couldn't bring himself to do so. There was something fragile in the way Dean held himself and responded to those around him. Sam noticed that both Liv and Rand were overly careful with him, watching Dean closely but letting him have his space. 

Sam didn't ask Liv, though he was tempted, about what she had said or what was in the box. She didn't offer to tell him either. Sam had a very strong feeling that this was purposeful, that she was expecting or hoping that Dean would open up to him on his own. 

Sam was praying for the exact same thing.

On Friday his prayer was answered. Dean was still quiet but much more himself. When he invited Sam over after work to watch the game, Sam was so quick to accept that Dean stopped what he was doing and looked at him oddly. When they parted ways with Liv at the end of the day, the relief in her eyes was obvious. 

Sam ended up watching a half hour of the game by himself, listening to Dean and Isabella on the baby monitor as he tucked her in. None of the melancholy he observed this week had ever been apparent in her presence. At one point, Sam found himself wondering if Dean even remembered he was downstairs, the two were so wrapped up in each other and the bedtime story that Isabella had chosen. 

The game ran later than usual due to extra innings that the Sox put to good use. The victory got a small smile from Dean as they discussed the highs and lows of the game, but it was obvious to Sam that Dean had something else on his mind. 

Around ten o'clock conversation began to wind down, and much to Sam's dismay, was becoming awkward. Making a judgment call, Sam decided it was time for him to leave. He'd done his best to make this easy on Dean, but he wasn't going to push. 

"It's getting late, man,” Sam said. "I think I'm gonna hit the road." 

"Oh." Noticeably caught off guard, Dean's look of disappointment had Sam second guessing himself. "You sure?" 

"Yeah," Sam let his reluctance show. "Gotta work in the morning. Boss is as real slave driver."

Dean gave him a real smile at that, but didn't respond. They both had a half day at the garage planned. 

The silence stretched.

"So I guess I'll see you tomorrow," Sam said, but made no move to leave.

"Yeah," Dean agreed quietly with a nod. "Tomorrow. Right." 

They stood gazing at each other in the living room. Sam not wanting to leave, Dean struggling to ask him not to. 

Sam dropped his eyes. He'd done everything he could. The ball was in his brother's court. "Goodnight, Dean."

As he passed Dean on the way to the door Sam felt warm fingers wrap gently around his wrist. He froze at the touch, heart fluttering at Dean's quiet plea. 

"Stay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I watched _Evening_ with Claire Danes and Hugh Dancy and found this lullaby towards the end. It was the only remarkable thing about the movie. Its by an unknown author and there are various versions floating about. I liked this one the best.


	9. Dean and Jenna

Sam expected Dean to release him as their eyes met. He didn't. Sam's voice was whisper-soft and cautious. "Okay." 

Dean looked relieved, but remained uncertain. Sam was hyper-aware of the firm but gentle grip Dean had on his wrist.

"Is everything all right?" Sam asked. 

"Yeah,” Dean responded unconvincingly. "Sure, I just, I..." 

Sam's expression softened as Dean trailed off. Dean had never done well when asking for something that made him feel vulnerable. 

"What is it, Dean?" Sam asked in such a gentle tone that it seemed to catch Dean off-guard. His brother's head tilted, eyes searching Sam's face for such a long moment that Sam almost stopped breathing. 

"I..." Dean's need to ask finally overrode his discomfort at doing so. "I want you to meet someone."

Surprised and a little relieved at the simple request, Sam was quick to respond with, "Sure." Curious about the hesitancy he couldn't help but wonder, "Who?"

Dean looked him in the eye for a full minute before responding. "My wife." He took Sam's surprised expression in stride, seemingly gaining courage as he went. "I'd like you to meet Jenna."

"Ah..." Sam faltered, speechless, so afraid he would say the wrong thing and Dean would either bolt or change the subject so quickly his head would be left spinning. 

Instead, Dean released him and retrieved the box Liv had given him the Sunday before. He sat down and placed the box on the coffee table. Sam sat down across from him. Both stared at the box. 

"What's this?" Sam finally asked, though Dean's request had given him some idea of what was in the box. His brother's recent reticent behavior suddenly made much more sense. 

When Dean didn't verbally respond Sam asked, "May I?" 

At Dean's nod he opened the small lavender box. He tipped it slightly and let the three DVDs slide into his hand, one for each year Dean and Jenna had spent together. Sam swallowed at some of the comments he read on each disk, written in Liv's distinctive, neat handwriting. So this is what she was talking about when we had coffee that night. 

"Have you...?" Sam gestured towards the DVD player with the disks in his hand. 

Dean shook his head, eyes downcast. "I couldn't even open the box." 

Sam nodded. Waiting. Understanding a little better why Dean needed him to stay. "Do you want me to...?" Dean's eyes flew to his as he moved to rise. Sam saw the hesitation there, the _I don't know if I'm ready_ in his brother's wide-eyed, emerald gaze. Sam patiently rode it out, using his own steady gaze to bolster and encourage, to convey just how touched he was to be there for Dean, and his desire to help in any way.

It seemed to help. The tense set of Dean's shoulders eased. There was gratitude in his gaze as he gave Sam a small nod of assent. 

Sam placed the first disk into the player and took a deep breath. Picking up the remote, he made is way back to the couch, giving Dean's shoulder a squeeze of support on his way past. He sat opposite his brother, but further back, out of Dean’s direct line of sight. From here he could watch both the screen and Dean and be unobtrusive. 

Thankfully, there was only the one universal remote for the DVD player and the television and it looked pretty straightforward to operate. Sam hit ‘Play’ as soon as the prompt appeared on the screen, noticing that Dean's eyes were closed. Liv's voice suddenly filled the room as an expanse of white silk and sequins filled the screen. 

_"You need some help in there, honey?"_ Liv asked from behind the camera as she panned around an oversized dressing room. Sam caught sight of her reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors that ran the full length of one wall. A dozen or so wedding gowns of various styles and designs hung at intervals around the well-lit, beige colored room. 

There was a small sigh from the other side of the changing room door. Dean's eyes opened, fastening on the 32" screen before him. 

_“There's too many little buttons. I can't reach them all,”_ Jenna responded. Sam heard the rustling of fabric on screen and the catch in Dean’s breathing as the door opened. 

Liv gasped as Jenna emerged. _"Oh, sweetheart,"_ she said with tears in her voice, _"you look beautiful."_

Sam had to agree and was forced to acknowledge that perhaps his initial, less than flattering opinion, of his brother’s wife was more jealousy on his part than anything to do with Jenna. The few pictures he'd seen simply did not do Jenna justice. She had a natural beauty that reminded him of Jess, but that was where any similarity ended. Jenna was smaller in both height and build. Her hair was shorter, golden with large curls that framed a lovely heart-shaped face wearing very little make up. The smile and the sparkle in her eyes brought her to life in a way no two dimensional picture ever could. 

A saleswoman appeared out of nowhere and did up the remaining pearly buttons that Jenna hadn't been able to reach. Jenna looked surprised, but pleased by the emotion she heard in Liv's voice. Self consciously, she smoothed the front of the dress. 

_"You don't think it's too much?"_ Jenna asked as she stepped up onto the circular dais positioned in the center of the room, the focal point to which every mirror was angled. 

Liv's eyes slid over the dress, considering. _"It is a tad excessive,"_ she said carefully.

Sam had to agree. With a high collar, puffy sleeves and intricate bodice design it looked uncomfortable and stuffy. It just didn't seem to suit the woman inside.

_"But if you like it, darling..."_ Liv was quick to add.

_"It's not quite what I had in mind,"_ Jenna interrupted thoughtfully, twisting to see the back of the dress in the mirror. 

_"I thought you didn't know what you had in mind,"_ Liv commented. 

_"I don't. Not exactly."_ She turned to face her mother and said with confidence, _“I'll know it when I see it."_ Jenna’s lips curled into a cheeky grin.

For the next half hour, Sam watched as Jenna tried on dress after dress that failed to meet whatever standards she had in mind. Her obvious enthusiasm began to wane by dress number eight and she was beginning to look a bit discouraged. 

_"Perhaps if you can give me some general idea of what you have in mind, dear?"_ the saleswoman asked with infinite patience, appearing again and again when her assistance was needed. 

Jenna looked at herself in the mirror for a long moment before answering with more certainty, vague ideas now giving way to more specific details.

_"Something a little more simple, but elegant,”_ Jenna said decisively. _“No beads or ruffles or buttons."_

The saleswoman nodded, considering, but required more information. _"Tell me, dear, what is your groom's preference?"_

Jenna looked confused. _"Excuse me?"_

_"Your groom."_ The older lady reiterated. _"Is he a leg man? Or does he prefer a little cleavage? A bare back perhaps?"_

_"What?"_ Jenna laughed and it filled the room. Sam felt more than heard Dean swallow. 

_"Most men have a preference, no matter how subtle. Some love a slender length of leg, the smooth curve of a shoulder, the full firmness of breasts..."_

Sam noticed the sparkle had returned to Jenna's eyes and had to silently applaud the saleswoman. 

_"What does your groom prefer my dear?"_

_"Well,"_ Jenna said with a grin that somehow managed to be as lewd as it was sweet, _"MY groom appreciates all that the female form has to offer."_

Sam was finding his sister-in-law positively charming and almost chuckled in response. 

_"Oh, Jenna,"_ Liv said, full of exasperated affection. 

_"Oh, mother,”_ Jenna responded in a no one likes a prude tone. 

Then as if some sudden memory surfaced, Jenna paused. She turned back to the saleswoman, the tips of her fingers caressing her throat. 

_"My neck,”_ Jenna said with dawning realization. _"He loves my neck."_

Sam watched as Jenna's right shoulder rose, head tilting in the same direction with a small shudder - as if she could feel phantom lips caressing smooth skin.

The saleswoman gave a nod. That was something she could work with. She spoke over her shoulder as she left the dressing room with purpose. _"I have couple of strapless and off-the-shoulder gowns in your size."_

Jenna looked pleased at the breakthrough in her dress hunt. She turned to Liv, a sudden look of wonder on her face. Then, as if she still couldn't believe it herself, she said, _"I'm getting married, mama."_

The camera tilted away, Liv wanting a full, unobstructed view of her daughter. Her voice was full of tenderness and love as she responded. _"I know, baby. I know."_

It was another twelve minutes of video and four dresses later that Jenna declared with excitement and certainty that she had found THE dress. 

A blank blue screen flared to life for a two second interval on the television before an entirely different scene came into view. It was an abrupt shift in time that in all likelihood could not be helped. 

The scene opened on a roomful of women, smiling and laughing, with Jenna at its center. Sam recognized a few of them from church. The steady, unmoving position of the camera indicated the use of a tripod. Jenna was half way through a pile of gifts consisting mostly of lingerie, heated massage oils and suggestive toys before Sam figured out that it was her bridal shower. 

The slamming of a door and loud voices brought a surprised hush over the room as Dean and Rand strode in purposefully and then froze - like deer caught in the headlights. Sam shook his head, brows rising. Dean epitomized the term grease-monkey, smudged with oil and grime and wearing a look in his eye that said whatever repair he'd been working on had become personal. Sam noticed only peripherally that Rand was just as filthy. 

There were times out of the blue when Dean's beauty would catch Sam completely off-guard. Surprisingly, this was one of them. His brother was covered in grease, wearing faded, torn denim and an army green t-shirt that brought out his eyes. He stood stock still, uncomfortable, and trying like hell not to show it. A muscle in his jaw jumped before a smooth smile spread like honey across his face and he took a step back. 

Fair, freckled skin, sparkling gemstone eyes, and the flex of muscle beneath denim and cotton were more than enough to send a surge of sudden longing through Sam. Dean was attractive. Always had been. Yet there was no rhyme or reason to those indiscernible moments, such as this one, in which Sam was simply struck speechless by just how beautiful his brother was.

Sam wasn't the only one affected. He noticed the small group of women seemed divided in two - those charmed by Dean's mortified retreat, such as Liv and Tess, and those who looked willing and ready to devour him right along with the hors d'oeuvres like...pretty much everyone else in the room. 

Jenna stood and went to him before he could withdraw completely. Whatever she said to him was too low for the microphone on the camcorder to pick up, but Sam saw Dean's eyes soften and his smile turn genuine. When Jenna rose to her toes and angled for a kiss, Dean obliged by dipping his head to meet her lips. It was obvious that he was expecting nothing more than a quick peck as was evidenced by the surprised upward sweep of arched brows as Jenna wrapped her arms around his neck and plunged in for a much deeper kiss. 

Dean angled his body away from her, hands raised and hovering in an effort to spare her clothing the filthy state that had befallen his. When Jenna pressed closer, Dean quickly understood that such concerns were not an issue for his soon-to-be bride. Following Jenna's lead, Dean's arms enveloped her without hesitation, pulling her flush against him as he sank into the kiss with startling abandonment. 

It was a claiming of territory, a stake of possession on Jenna's part. Everyone in the room saw it for what it was, but appeared to be enjoying the show regardless. Dean's strong, splayed hand settled in the small of Jenna's back, his jaw working slow and fluid, indicating a deep sweep of his tongue. It went on a tad longer than was appropriate and at a certain point Sam wondered if the two even remembered they were in a room full of people.

When they separated, it was to whistles and speculative, yet tactful comments from guests who had apparently had enough of being ignored. Dean and Jenna smiled at each other and shared another small kiss. She whispered something in his ear that, to Sam's amazement, actually had his brother blushing. At his most adorable when self-conscious and out of his element, Dean fidgeted, one hand going to the back of his neck – a sure sign of his discomfort to Sam. Despite that, it was just as obvious that Dean would stand his ground until Jenna gave him leave. 

Finally taking pity on him, Jenna cupped the side of Dean's face, kissed him softly on the corner of his mouth and allowed him his retreat with a low-voiced, _“Go on, get outta here.”_ Rand, who had wisely melted into the background until now, slapped a companionable hand on Dean's shoulder as they gladly fled the room, and the house as well, judging by the very noticeable sound of a slamming door seconds later. Guests who had quieted once again suddenly burst into laughter at the sound.

Jenna opened the remainder of her gifts, oblivious or uncaring of the black smudges that marred her right cheek and various parts of her attire. 

When the blue screen flared again, Sam flicked his gaze to Dean to see how he was faring. In profile, his brother maintained a carefully neutral expression, but for eyes that were far too bright. 

_"Well? What do you think?"_

Sam's attention was drawn back to the screen at the sound of Jenna's voice. The camera panned an empty room with hardwood floors and came to rest on Liv as she looked the decor over and walked into the adjacent kitchen and breezeway. Sam realized that Jenna was doing the filming. As the camera followed Liv, Sam suddenly recognized the layout of the home as the one he was currently sitting in. The rooms looked larger without any furniture. 

_"Do you like it, Mama?"_ Jenna asked again.

Liv walked a large circle around the kitchen, Jenna following as Liv nodded but gave no verbal response. The microphone picked up Jenna's impatient sigh and amplified it. 

Mother and daughter walked through the entire house and then out to the front lawn. The For Sale sign remained in the front yard but had already been topped with a bold 'SOLD' sign. Liv paused to look at the house, hand shading her eyes against the sun. 

_"Well?"_ Jenna's exasperation at Liv's silence was growing.

_"It's beautiful."_ Liv finally said. 

The camera bounced around in a way that almost made Sam nauseous.

Jenna happily exclaimed, _"It's perfect!"_

Liv was contemplative. _"I thought you’d decided on the Cape on Western Prom?"_

_"We did,"_ Jenna said. _"Then the realtor called and asked if we were interested in one final showing. And I don't know...Dean just fell in love with it."_

Sam was reminded how similar the house looked to the one picture he'd seen of their home in Lawrence. 

_"But what about you, darling?"_ Liv asked. _"Is it what you want?"_

_"Mama,"_ Jenna said, the tone of her voice indicating that whatever she was about to say should be obvious. _"If Dean’s happy, I'm happy."_

It really was as simple and honest as that. Sam could hear it in Jenna's voice.

Liv smiled, recognizing the truth as well. With renewed enthusiasm she declared, _"I love it."_

They walked through the house again discussing color schemes and furniture styles before Jenna turned more serious. 

She caught Liv completely off-guard with her quiet and heartfelt, _"Thank you, Mama."_

Taken aback, Liv asked, _"For what?"_

_"For everything, the wedding...the honeymoon,”_ Jenna said. _"For this. If you hadn't given us the $25,000 down payment, we wouldn't be able to afford this."_ Jenna looked around at the beautiful home that was soon to be hers.

_"Your father and I put that money aside for just this purpose, honey."_ Liv said. _"I'm just so happy that we did and that you found that special someone to spend your life with."_

_"I can't imagine spending it with anyone else,”_ Jenna said, heartfelt and so obviously in love. Then quietly, _"I only wish Daddy were here. Do you think he would approve?"_

_"Of Dean?"_ Liv asked surprised. _"Oh, honey, it's as if your father hand picked that boy from beyond the grave."_ With a small laugh she added, _"The only thing those two love more than their cars...is you."_

Jenna gave a tearful laugh from behind the camera. Sam noticed that Dean's eyes were beginning to reluctantly droop, the week's lack of sleep and the late hour finally catching up with him. Liv and Jenna completed their tour of the house and one final detail caught Sam's attention. 

_"When do you close?"_ Liv asked.

_"We signed the papers yesterday but there's some snag with the dates. We won’t be able to move in until after we get back from our honeymoon,”_ Jenna answered. _"I hope you don't mind putting us up for another couple of weeks..."_

Liv looked into the camera and her daughter's eyes, her expression wry. _"I think I’ll manage."_

Fade to blue. Another shift in scene as Jenna was woken up by Liv with breakfast in bed on her wedding day. Jenna hadn't seen Dean since the night before and wouldn't until they met at the altar later in the afternoon. Sam could tell it was killing her. The camera catalogued stolen bits and pieces of the bride-to-be's day. 

It was just past midnight when Dean finally allowed his head to ease back against the pillowed recliner, his eyes stubborn slits of olive. 

Finally it was time. Sam was nearly as anxious as Jenna. Despite what he already knew, the thought of Dean standing at an altar that didn't involve rituals, blood sacrifices or black magic of some kind was totally blowing Sam's mind. 

Liv transferred the camera to someone Sam couldn’t see. She reminded whoever it was that the battery was fully charged and handed them another as a spare. She gave very explicit directions to capture everything.

The music started and Liv disappeared. He saw the church full of guests first, recognized several faces from Sunday morning services. It all melted away as he got his first look at Dean. 

It was a treat to see his brother in a tuxedo. He'd seen Dean in a suit before: once for a funeral and again for his senior prom. Both were secondhand and in no way did his brother justice. Handsome as Dean was on both of those occasions; he did not look comfortable and could not wait to shed the restrictive attire - though Sam suspected that the beautiful Lakyn Hodge had something to do with the second occasion. 

The same could not be said for the event that Sam currently witnessed. Dean's tux was of the finest quality and was perfectly tailored to suit his brother’s build. The first thing Sam noticed was the absence of the slightly terrified look he expected to see on Dean's face. 

Dean was happy, relaxed. 

Calm. 

Ready. 

The second thing he noticed was Rand standing ready as best man. A position that by all rights belonged to him. Ridiculous as it was - Sam felt a pang of regret at that. Just the thought of standing witness to Dean's nuptials tore him apart, but he'd have done it. For Dean. If he had known. 

Dean took a deep breath as the wedding march began, expectant gaze seeking his bride in anticipation. The camera did not pan to the bride as expected. Instead it captured the look on Dean's face as Jenna made her entrance.

Sam was unprepared for the unshuttered love that he saw on his brother’s face. He could see in Dean's eyes the moment he connected with Jenna and the peace and contentment that it evoked. 

The hurt he felt at that love not being reserved for him alone sparked an ache in Sam's chest as deep as it was fleeting. It was tempered by the genuine affection he'd slowly developed for the woman who had made his brother whole again. 

Jenna was nothing short of stunning. Her beautiful golden hair was swept up at the sides, a delicate ivory circlet adorning the crown of her head with a tumble of perfect curls and a sheer veil cascading down her back. The off-the-shoulder gown was every bit as elegant as the bride hoped it would be. Make up and jewels were a bare minimum and served only to enhance natural, God-given beauty.

Her gaze was for Dean alone. And Sam saw something in Jenna's eyes that curled its way around his heart and eased some of the pain, something that Dean so deserved and likely had not had in such unconditional abundance...since Mary. 

It was as plain as day for Sam, and the entire church to see. Jenna didn't just love Dean. She absolutely adored him. In that moment, part of Sam fell in love with her as well. 

The ceremony was surreal. Sam listened closely to every word, somewhat relieved when the bride and groom exchanged traditional vows. Witnessing the evidence of their love was one thing - having to hear, in their own words, how much they meant to one another would've been more than Sam could bear.

In the recliner across from him, Dean's battle against sleep was slowly losing ground after almost three hours of video. Sam watched as his head canted to one side, eyelids fluttering as he fought to remain awake. It wasn’t until the reception was well underway, an hour or so later, that his stubborn brother finally succumbed to his body's demand for sleep. Sam watched him for a long time - trying to reconcile the man he knew, both in the past and present, with the one he saw onscreen. 

Jess had asked him to escort her to a wedding for one of her cousins shortly after they started dating and he'd seen enough movies here and there over the years as well to be familiar with the traditions that followed at the reception. The toast by the best man, the first dance, the cutting and sharing of the cake, the tossing of the bouquet, the tinkling of the glasses where the bride and groom were at the mercy of their guests. Sam watched Dean smile his way through each event and even seem to enjoy it - more so for the sake of his bride who was positively glowing through it all.

Without a doubt, Sam's favorite part was Dean and Jenna's first dance as husband and wife. Jenna tugged his brother to the edge of the dance floor where she paused. Dean watched her curiously with a small trusting smile as she pushed the jacket off his shoulders and maneuvered around behind him to remove it completely. She handed it off to the nearest guest and circled back in front of him where she loosened and removed his tie, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt as she looked up at him lovingly. 

Dean's smile grew as Jenna reached up on her tip toes to run her fingers through his hair until his customary spikes were in place. The part of Sam that hadn't fallen in love with her at the wedding was now completely lost. Jenna kicked her shoes off to the side and held her hand out to his brother. Dean bypassed the hand, arms circling her waist and surprised her with a spontaneous and intense kiss, as if he just that second remembered how very much he loved her. 

Without breaking the kiss he picked her up and twirled her carefully on to the dance floor to the whistles and applause of their charmed guests. The pair was so much in love that their joy was infectious. Sam shook his head in amazement and couldn’t help but look over at his slumbering sibling. 

 

The blue screen flared to life again, lingering long enough to give Sam the impression that footage had ended for this particular DVD. He was just about to hit the eject button and pull it when a door came into view. Sam recognized Liv's living room and the main entrance in which she had the camera trained. She pulled the focus back, zooming out for a wide angle. Sam heard faint activity on the other side of the door. Liv passed in front of the camera to look out the window, and excited, she hurried to the door. 

_"Welcome Home!"_ Her arms were open and around Jenna before the young woman could get in the door all the way. 

_"Oh, Mama!"_ Jenna set down her bag and returned the hug enthusiastically. _"It was beautiful! Did you get the postcard we sent?"_

_"Not yet, honey,”_ Liv said. When Jenna looked slightly disappointed she added, _"I'm sure it will be here soon."_

_"Where's Dean?"_ Liv asked when Jenna looked out into the yard and didn't move from the door. 

_"Right behind me,"_ Jenna assured her. _"Give him just a sec, okay? The return flight was a little...rough."_

_"Okay,”_ Liv agreed. _"Well, let me take your bag. Are you hungry? I made some sandwiches just in case."_

_"Maybe later."_ Jenna was distracted as she looked out the door, presumably to check on Dean again, tacking on a delayed, _"But thank you."_

Liv puttered around both in front of and behind the camera while Jenna stood at the door waiting. After a few moments, the concerned expression on Jenna's face was replaced with a smile. She opened the screen door for Dean and took his arm as he entered. 

_"Hey, you,"_ Liv said softly, glancing at Jenna in concern before kissing Dean on the cheek.

Sam mirrored Liv's concern. While Jenna was golden and glowing from wherever the couple had honeymooned, Dean's color was completely washed out and he looked like he was going to throw up. 

_"Why don't you sit down, honey,”_ Liv suggested. _"Can I get you anything?"_

Dean chuckled carefully. _"Look that bad, do I?"_

_"He's fine, Mama,"_ Jenna interjected, pressing close to Dean's side. _"Nothing a little rest won’t cure."_

Liv just nodded, clearly not wanting to interfere in any way. 

_"As a matter of fact,"_ Jenna looked up at Dean, _"I'm pooped. I thought we'd curl up together and take a nice long nap. We'll worry about the luggage later."_

Dean smiled more with his eyes than his mouth. His arm slipped around Jenna's waist. _"Sounds good, Mrs. Matthews."_

_"Sounds damn good, Mr. Matthews,”_ Jenna returned playfully.

Sam watched Dean take a couple of steps and then pause with a low groan, one hand coming reflexively to his head. Jenna's entire demeanor changed. In that instant, Sam saw the nurse in her take over. 

_"Dean."_ Jenna stepped in front of her husband, facing him. _"Look at me, honey."_

Dean tried to comply.

_"Come on, honey,”_ Jenna encouraged with an edge of urgency. _"Let me see your eyes."_

Dean's features tightened, eyes clamped shut, his other hand coming up to cradle his head. 

_"Mama,"_ Jenna's free hand waved in Liv's general direction, _"I need my purse…now! Hurry!"_

Liv hurried out of sight of the apparently forgotten camera just as Dean's knees gave out. Jenna went down with him, hands on his shoulders to steady him. 

_"Okay, baby. Okay."_ Jenna kept a constant litany of soft encouragement. _"Hold on. It's okay. Just hold on."_

Sam was sitting up, leaning toward the screen, even as his eyes flickered to Dean sleeping quietly across from him. Onscreen, his brother doubled over in pain, muscles rock hard and straining, breathing harsh and erratic. 

Jenna's hand was on the back of Dean's neck, while his hands were fisted, white-knuckled in her skirt. A sound that may have been a small sob escaped him and had Jenna covering his ears and very nearly screaming, _"Mother!"_

_"Here."_ Liv came rushing back into the room and dropped to the floor next to them. 

Jenna unzipped her purse with one hand and dumped the contents out onto the floor. Snatching one of the three prescription bottles that spilled free, she had it open and was coaxing the medication into Dean's mouth within seconds. 

_"That's it. You're okay."_ Her touch was steady, as if the smallest movement would exacerbate Dean's pain. _"Give it time to work, baby. You're okay."_

Liv and Jenna sat in tense silence waiting it out, both noticeably affected by the hitches in Dean's breathing and the small occasional whimpers over which he had no control. 

Eventually his hands loosened, clenching and unclenching in Jenna's skirt. He wasn’t out of the woods yet, but his body was beginning to slowly relax. Jenna stroked the nape of his neck, eyes closing in relief. When Dean released a long shaky breath, Jenna grabbed a throw pillow from the couch and encouraged him to move to a more comfortable position. A partial crawl and his arms circled her waist like a lifeline as he buried his face in the pillow on her lap. 

_"It's okay."_ Jenna's hand stroked over the curve of Dean's shoulder but her eyes met Liv's. _"It's okay."_

Liv didn't look entirely convinced but she nodded. Picking up Jenna's purse, she put everything back inside, but left it within reach. Rising to her feet, she quietly left the room. 

Jenna continued to stroke Dean’s hair. _"This one wasn't bad at all."_

Sam was incredulous. It looked pretty damn bad to him and also pretty damn scary. 

_"I'm sorry,"_ Jenna looked down at Dean. _"I should have paid closer attention."_

The muscles of Dean's arms flexed as he tightened his embrace, offering comfort the only way he could, though it appeared he was only barely clinging to consciousness. 

_"It's okay,”_ Jenna soothed. _"Sleep, baby. I'll be here when you wake up."_

Less than a minute later, Dean was out, breathing deep and even. 

Liv reappeared moments later carrying two mugs. She set them on the end table and retrieved a throw from the back of the sofa that she used to gently cover Dean before joining them on the floor. 

_"Chocolate silk, your favorite."_ Liv handed her daughter the oversized cup of coffee which Jenna took gratefully, though she angled her upper body away from Dean as a safety measure as she took her first sip.

Liv gave her time to enjoy the beverage before carefully breaking the silence. _"Did this happen while you were gone?"_

_"No,”_ Jenna answered softly. _"But flying seems to be an issue. We had some turbulence on the return flight and an unexpected lay over...it caused some additional stress that I hadn't anticipated."_

_"You couldn't have known, honey."_ Liv comforted. 

_"I know,”_ Jenna said, but it obviously didn't make her feel any better. She ran the back of her fingers along Dean's jaw. _"It's just...he counts on me, Mama. I should have dosed him earlier. It would have helped with the pain."_

Liv nodded. There wasn’t a lot she could say to that. They both watched Dean sleep for a bit. 

_"So,"_ Liv interrupted the silence, her voice low but light, _"how was the honeymoon?"_ she asked. 

Sam smiled at the instant transformation that took place on Jenna's face at the distraction. He listened as she quietly detailed their tropical paradise and tried to imagine his brother in a pair of low-slung Bermuda shorts and sun-kissed, freckled skin. The newlyweds snorkeled, rode horses on the beach and made love beneath a sparkling velvet sky and pale moon. Thankfully Jenna didn't share a lot of details on that last one, but for one.

_“We got sand in places you don't even want to know about...”_

**-wWw-**

It was nearly 3:00 am when Sam settled on the floor in front of Dean. The DVDs had been placed carefully back in their box and the television was off. Dean hadn't moved. Sam was pretty sure his neck was going to be stiff when he did wake up. He placed a hand on Dean's thigh, just above his knee.

"Dean, hey." Sam squeezed gently, his voice quiet. "Wake up, man." 

Dean roused slowly, blinking at Sam for a long moment before really seeing him. "Hey." Dean’s voice was low and rough, he looked around them room. "What time is it?"

"It's late." Sam let his hand linger. Dean didn't seem to notice. "Why don't you go up to bed,” Sam suggested. "I'll see myself out." 

Dean nodded but didn't move and Sam wondered if his words had even penetrated. Tired eyes slowly drifted shut once again. Sam smiled softly, thumb caressing the worn denim beneath his fingertips. He was tempted to cover his brother with a throw, but knew that he'd get a better night's sleep in his own bed.

"Dean." Sam raised his voice and Dean startled. 

"What?" Dean sat up straight and ran a hand over his face. "I'm up." 

"I'm gonna head out, man. Get some sleep." Sam rose, stepping back to allow Dean space to do the same. "I'll see you in the morning."

Dean checked his watch, eyes widening at the hour. He shook his head, still trying to clear away the cobwebs of sleep. "Yeah." 

Sam wasn’t certain that Dean was even fully awake, but he was up and moving so he figured his brother could find his way to bed. 

When Dean just stood there Sam snorted and gave in to brotherly impulse, wrapping his large hand around Dean's bicep and guiding him to the bottom of the stairs. 

"I'll get the light and lock up on my way out." A biddable Dean brought out the affection in his voice. "Go to bed, Dean." 

Sam was already turning to leave when Dean grabbed his arm. "Stay." The emotion behind the word was different from earlier. Sam could see that Dean didn't necessarily understand why he desired Sam's proximity, but clearly he did. "It's late,” Dean continued, releasing him. "Why don't you crash in the spare room? I'll treat you and Izzy B to breakfast." 

Sam hid his surprise at the unexpected development. His motel room was only two miles down the road, but hey, it was Dean's idea. There was absolutely no reason he could think of to refuse. 

"Sure." Sam felt as though he'd passed a major threshold in this new friendship with his brother. "Thanks." 

Dean locked up while Sam got the few lower level lights that were left on. They paused at Isabella's room and Sam leaned against the jamb, arms comfortably crossed, watching Dean adjust Izzy's blankets and smooth a tangle of curls back to kiss her on the forehead. A nightlight in the corner bathed the room in pale pink. 

Spooky purred as Dean scratched behind his ears. Isabella stirred and curled towards the familiar presence of her father. 

"Shhhhhhhhh." Dean's voice was ultra soft, barely audible. 

It was enough to reassure her and the child settled almost immediately. Dean gazed down at her for so long that Sam found himself wishing he could see his brother's face. He kissed Isabella one more time before showing Sam to the guest room, leaving her door partially open.

The spare room was a little small, but comfortable enough and had an attached bathroom. Dean quietly disappeared as Sam stripped down to his boxers and t-shirt. Sam assumed that he'd gone to bed and was just about to crash himself when his brother reappeared with a neatly folded pair of sweats and a shirt. 

“Here,” Dean said, “they may be a little snug but at least you won’t have to sleep in your clothes.” 

"Thanks." 

Dean nodded tiredly, hesitating as he left. Sam got the feeling he wanted to say something, but in the end he didn't. One hand on the doorframe, Dean paused on his way out, turning his head in profile. 

"'Night, Sam." 

His voice was tired and lonely, full of something Sam didn't even think Dean recognized or was capable of acknowledging at this point. 

Sam wanted to wrap his arms around him, press warm lips to the back of his neck and hold him close until they both fell asleep. 

Instead he said, "'Night, Dean." 

Sam's plan to climb into bed and analyze all that he'd learned this evening fell by the wayside, not long after his head hit the pillow. He slipped into slumber wearing a small smile and his brother’s clothes. 

Morning came too quickly, the hours between closing his eyes and opening them to early sunlight seeming almost instantaneous. Sam blinked up at the ceiling, too comfortable to move, until the uncanny sensation of being watched permeated his subconscious. He turned his head to the side and met two large, curious, grass green eyes.

"Hi." Sam was a little started by Isabella's presence and wondered how long she's been watching him. 

"Hi," she said, staring at him openly. Then, "You snore." Isabella wrinkled her nose at him.

Sam's snort earned him a giggle. He must have been really tired. Isabella handed him two towels as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. 

"Thank you." He could hear Dean moving about downstairs. 

"Daddy's making pancakes for breakfast,” Sam was informed. Isabella's voice was sing-song and bright as the sun. His four hours of sleep to her ten was a marked contrast. 

"He is?" Sam couldn't help but smile at her as she looked up at him guilelessly. 

"Mmm, hmm." Isabella was dressed but her tumble of curls had yet to be tamed. "My daddy makes THE bestest pancakes,” she said proudly. 

"Yeah,” Sam’s voice was wistful. "He does."

Isabella's innocent expression didn't change. Sam suddenly felt guilty for his deception. 

"Well, I better hurry then." Sam stood with his towels as her cue to leave, but then went to one knee before her. "I wouldn't want to miss out on the bestest pancakes ever now would I?" He couldn't resist the tap of his finger against her button nose. 

Sam watched her go, all bubbly energy and smiles. Dean's personal little ray of sunshine. 

A hot shower did him wonders. He had no choice but to dress in his clothes from yesterday. Sam hung the towels over the shower rod to dry and made the bed before padding downstairs carrying his sneakers. He could hear Isabella and Dean talking in the kitchen as he approached. Sam hung back just listening and watching. 

Dean was standing behind Isabella, combing out her hair. She was chattering away and Sam listened to her without really paying attention to what she was saying as he watched Dean. His hands were confident and gentle as he smoothed out each individual tangle and pulled the front of her golden tresses away from her face, pinning the hair in place on each side with lime green barrettes that matched her top and the tiny crocs on her feet. When Dean froze mid-air with the brush at the back of her head, Sam paid closer attention to their conversation. 

"Why would you want to do that?" Dean asked carefully. Sam could tell he was very focused on whatever response Isabella may have had. 

The child before him shrugged. Dean remained silent as he combed out the back of her hair. 

"Why do you want to cut your hair, Izzy B?" He asked her again, softly but expecting an answer. 

Surprised, Sam leaned forward a bit, curious as to the answer himself. 

Isabella's sigh was too big for her small frame. She didn't want to answer, that much was clear. Dean waited. 

"Tangie Berry says I have poodle hair,” Isabella admitted, petulance mixed with a touch of hurt. Sam could tell by the way Dean's nostrils flared that he picked up on it too. "She calls me Frizzy Izzy." 

"Tangie Berry, huh?" Dean's voice was affronted on his daughter’s behalf. Sam wondered what was going to come out of his mouth. "That mousey little girl with the bowl cut?" 

Isabella nodded on both accounts and Sam stifled a chuckle and shook his head. Dean finished combing out the back of her hair and then kneeled in front of her. 

"Do you like your hair the way it is?" Dean asked her directly. When she nodded, Dean reached up to twirl a curl around his finger and settle it over her shoulder. 

"Your mama had hair just like yours." Isabella's expression turned more solemn and Sam wondered how much of the emotion she understood in Dean's voice. "It's beautiful. Don't let anyone tell you any different." 

Dean got to his feet and helped Isabella hop down from her stool. "Besides," he continued, “someday Tangie Berry is going to pay a lot of money to have hair just like yours. And you know what?" 

"What?" Isabella was still holding his hand and looking up at him when Dean responded. 

"It still won’t be as pretty as yours." 

Isabella nodded with a damn straight look on her face, Dean's words bolstering her confidence to a startling degree. Dean tapped her on the bottom with the palm of his hand and said, "Now go get your backpack." 

"Morning." Sam made his entrance and dropped onto the stool at the island next to Isabella's. 

"Hey." Dean's smile was easy and warm. "How'd you sleep?"

"Like a rock." As a matter of fact Sam hadn't slept that heavily or well in a very long time. Whether it was true or not, he attributed it to being under the same roof as Dean. 

"Help yourself to coffee." Dean pointed in the general direction of the coffeemaker and went back to his pancake batter. 

Sam filled a mug and returned to the island to add sugar and creamer just as Isabella strolled back into the kitchen with her backpack. 

She smiled at him like he was supposed to be there and it just felt so right that he was. "Hey there, Sunshine." 

Isabella tipped her head at the name and Sam could tell she liked it. Dean had turned to watch the exchange, still mixing his batter. When Isabella attempted to climb into her seat Sam picked her up, helping thread her legs through the specialized booster seat. Dean set the batter aside to retrieve a sippy cup full of orange juice from the refrigerator for her. 

When the mix was ready Dean checked the griddle then turned to his audience. "Any requests?"

Sam and Isabella both spoke at the same time.

"Blueberry."

"Chocolate chip." 

They looked at each other. Sam was obviously willing to concede his request for hers but Dean had already moved on. "Blueberry chocolate chip it is."

Isabella seemed okay with it. Sam wasn’t so sure. He watched as Dean added a cup of blueberries to the batter and just a handful of mini chocolate chips. 

Sam remembered when Dean was just learning to cook. Pancakes were one of his brother's first specialties, the plain white batter a blank canvas for Dean's culinary creativity. Sam's favorite was blueberry. When he was eight they'd spent the better part of a summer working a case in Cherryfield, Maine. Their motel was within walking distance of the blueberry fields and he and Dean had raked their way to some hard earned cash the old fashioned way. They also ate their weight in the sweetest blueberries Sam had ever tasted. 

Still, that didn't stop Dean from trying to sway him with new creations. Dean's favorite, of course, was chocolate, chocolate chip - adding either chocolate syrup or Ovaltine to the mix for maximum chocolate overload. John's favorite was pumpkin chocolate chip, and Sam had to admit, those were pretty good. There were some misfires as well. Mint chocolate chip (notice the ongoing theme) and peanut butter-banana came to mind, but for the most part, he and John were always curious to see what Dean would come up with next. Dad even took to picking up various spices and ingredients when he went shopping just to see what Dean would do with them. 

At Christmas, they had red and green pancakes. On Valentines Day they had red heart-shaped pancakes. Okay - so that only happened once. John had let a surprised snicker out at that one. Dean's 'What? It's Valentines Day!' sounded more defensive than indignant and John tried to backtrack, but the damage had already been done. They never had heart shaped pancakes again. Sam could tell Dad felt a little sad about that. 

St. Patrick ’s Day was the obvious green shamrock shape and the standard red, white and blue for the Fourth of July. One Halloween they even had orange and black pancakes. Sam didn't even want to know how one made black pancakes. They'd tasted funny, too. 

The first time he had pancakes in the dining hall at Stanford, there was such a lump in his throat that he ended up not being able to eat them at all. 

"Here we go." Dean placed one pancake on Isabella's plate and a stack of four on Sam's. She looked up at her father, disappointed. When Dean winked at her, Isabella smiled. There was a fleeting sense of feeling the outsider again at their silent communication, but Sam let it go. In time he would learn every nuance of this side of his brother as well. 

His first bite was a taste explosion of fresh blueberries and maple syrup. Oh, yeah. Even better than he remembered. 

"Mmmph.” It was all he could manage. Dean didn't respond but Sam could feel the smile as he flipped his second batch of hotcakes. 

Isabella was finishing her last bite when Dean returned with a special order that he slid onto her plate. Sam finally understood why she looked so disappointed with her first serving. He leaned over to get a better look. 

"A teddy bear?" he asked. Isabella looked pleased as punch and immediately plucked out the chocolate chip eyes. She ate them one at a time before dousing the creation in so much maple syrup that Dean had to intervene. 

"Grill's still open." Dean caught Sam checking out the teddy bear, his voice half-teasing as he continued. "Anything you want to special order?"

"Yeah," Sam answered softly. Dean was already turning away but paused to listen to Sam's request. "A dinosaur." 

Dean turned his head, met Sam's gaze, searching for something he may have picked up in his voice. "Okay..." he nodded. Sam could tell he was a little surprised that his offer was taken seriously but was quite willing to comply. "A dinosaur it is." 

Sam and Isabella shared a look, both extremely pleased with their special treats. Sam was nine the last time he'd made the request. At the time there was really only one prehistoric shape that his brother could do, but it had been pretty awesome. 

Dean slid a brontosaurus with a blueberry eye onto Sam's plate as Liv pulled into the drive. Subtly, he waited for Sam's reaction. "Not too bad for a first try, huh?"

Again Sam could hear in Dean's voice that his brother really did care what he thought. It warmed him and a gentle smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Perfect." He reinforced his words by taking a huge bite just as Liv entered through the breezeway.

"Good morning," she addressed them all with no notable surprise at Sam's early morning presence and then focused her attention on Isabella. "What's this? Daddy made his special pancakes and I wasn't invited?" She gave a mock pout.

Dean was removing the last batch of cakes from the griddle and half turned to her as she entered. "You're always invited," he said sincerely, leaning down so she could kiss his cheek. Liv moved to the island where she surveyed Bella’s sticky face and decided it was safer to kiss the top of her head. Then as if it were the most natural thing in the world she leaned over and with a hand on Sam's shoulder, and to his pleasant surprise, pulled him in for quick peck as well. 

Dean sat down to eat as Sam and Isabella were just finishing and Liv helped herself to a pancake, eating it like a cookie while they discussed their plans for the morning. When Dean mentioned he was going to mow the lawn that afternoon, Liv said, “You may want to do that this morning, hon. The forecast is calling for scattered thunder showers all afternoon.” Sam and Dean looked out the window at the same time. The sun was currently shining.

“Bella and I are going to go grocery shopping and run some errands,” Liv said as she wet a paper towel and cleaned the syrup from Isabella’s little face. “I’ll bring her by the garage around 12:30?”

“Sounds good,” Dean agreed around a mouthful of pancakes as he extracted Izzy from her seat. Placing her on the floor Dean knelt in front of her and gave a nod towards the bathroom. “Need to use the potty before you go?” he asked. 

Apparently she thought about it for too long. Whatever look she saw on Dean’s face had her smiling sheepishly over her shoulder as she made her way to the bathroom. 

Dean was rinsing out the batter bowl when Isabella appeared moments later. Aware of her presence he paused but purposefully didn’t turn as he asked, “Did you wash your hands?” 

Isabella looked both irritated and guilty at the reminder. She turned on her heel and disappeared behind the door once again. Dean shook his head with an affectionate, “that’s what I thought,” as Sam and Liv shared an amused glance. 

“Are we ready?” Liv asked when she reappeared. 

Dean helped Isabella into her backpack, kneeling again for a kiss and a hug and a quick tickle that filled the kitchen with sweet young laughter. The corner of Dean’s eyes crinkled in delight and he pulled her into another hug at the sound. 

Sam watched, completely unaware that the love he felt for both was written all over his face for anyone to see. 

“Have fun with Gramma, Darlin’,” Dean said as they separated. 

Liv took her granddaughter’s hand and they started towards the breezeway. Just before they reached the door Isabella paused and looked back with a wave, “Bye, Sam.” 

“See you later, Sunshine,” he said, “have fun.”

Dean contemplated mowing the lawn before work but in the end decided to risk a race against the rain as it was nearing 8:30. Rand was already at the shop when they arrived. Saturday’s were pretty laid back. The garage was open to the public by appointment only and overall, it was a good catch up day. The light banter and easy companionship made the morning slide by all too quickly and before long it was noon and Tess was there to pick Rand up. Close to 1:00 pm and running late, Liv arrived with Isabella. 

“Sorry we’re late,” she said, “I ran into Beth Parsons at the market. Did you know Neela Ford had a stroke two days ago?” 

“No,” Dean looked startled, “I didn’t. Wow.”

Sam was just as shocked. Just a few short weeks ago he and the rest of the congregation had sang Happy Birthday to her. She had just turned thirty. 

“She’s in the hospital in Millidge. No one seems to know how she’s doing. I’m going to take a trip to the city this afternoon and look in on her.” 

Dean was still a little shell shocked but he pulled out his wallet and handed Liv some cash. “Would you mind picking her up some flowers at the gift shop? Just to let her know we’re thinking of her?” Sam was touched when the tilt of Dean’s head included him as well as Isabella.

“I think she’d like that.” Liv’s smile was warm. “Actually I have a few other errands I can do while I’m there. May as well make an afternoon out of it. I’ll see everyone at church tomorrow?” She asked with a glance that included Sam as well. 

Once she had their assent, Liv gave Isabella a goodbye kiss and made her way back to her vehicle. They all watched her leave, waving as she pulled out of the lot. 

Dean helped Isabella into her car seat in the back of the Impala while Sam waited. He knew that Saturday afternoon's were their time and he respected that. He was tired anyway and was looking forward to an early afternoon nap. 

"So, I guess I'll see you tomorrow," Sam said when Dean was finished. 

"Yeah," Dean agreed, but his voice sounded a little off to Sam. "Sure." 

Sam didn't make a big deal out of it, figured Dean would get to it when he was ready. He nodded to his brother and leaned down to say goodbye to Isabella. 

"Later, Sunshine." 

Eyes sparkling, she laughed, thoroughly enjoying her new nickname. 

He met Dean's gaze briefly before turning and heading to his car. 

"Hey, Sam." Dean's head was lowered, but he looked Sam in the eye. "Thanks for last night. For staying." 

Sam's reply was heartfelt. "Anytime, man. Anytime."

**-wWw-**

Through the cloudy haze of sleep, Sam turned away from his loudly ringing cell phone and buried deeper into his bedding. The chime of the call going to voicemail brought him closer to consciousness but he didn't move. When it started ringing again, it took seconds for it to permeate that it was ring tone he'd set for Dean. He scrambled for the phone on the bedside table, growling in frustration as it went to voicemail before he could flip it open.

"Come on. Try again." He stared at the phone in his hands willing it to ring. "Try again." 

When it rang again, he didn't even pretend that he hadn't been sitting right on top of it. "Hello." 

At first he didn't hear anything. And then very slow measured breathing. "Dean?"

Rustling. A hitch of breath, Dean's voice so low he had to strain to hear. "…S...am."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a real issue with Dean being miserable and pining away for Sam while he's getting his normal on at Stanford. I like to think this is a better alternative for him :) I worked hard to give Dean someone worthy of him, someone who obviously had their own faults as well. Original characters can be tricky - my goal was to have you like her and what she was able to give Dean during this time :)


	10. Who the Hell are You?

"Dean?" 

No response. Just breathing. Sam knew immediately that it was another migraine. He remembered the severity of the last one well. Knew that once it progressed to a certain point Dean couldn't move, couldn't get to his medication. 

"I'm on my way." Sam lowered his voice but wanted to make sure his brother heard him. "I'll be there in two minutes, Dean. Just hold on." 

Sam had crawled into bed in boxers and a t-shirt. Quickly, he pulled on a pair of jeans and slipped into his sneakers. He snagged his keys off the bedside table on his way out the door. It was only then that he realized that he'd just assumed Dean was home. He prayed that was the case. 

Liv's prediction for rain that morning had proven true. While he'd slept, the pale blue sky had transformed to darkened steel. A fine mist covered his windshield and the air held an energy that hinted an approaching storm. 

His motel was almost exactly two miles from Dean's house. Sam breathed a sigh of relief as he caught sight of the Impala parked in the driveway. The first thing he noticed as he stepped from the rental was the smell of fresh cut grass and the sound of distant thunder. Dean had managed to get his mowing done before the rain.

The door was unlocked. Sam let himself in. A sweet aroma and a warm light drew him to the kitchen. The island where they'd eaten pancakes that morning was covered in flour. A bowl full of cookie batter sat next to a cooling rack of chocolate chip cookies. The oven was on. Sam shut it off, cracked the door and hurried on. 

The living room was dark and empty. He headed up the stairs and didn't have to go far before he found what he was looking for. Dean had made it to the top of the landing before pain had immobilized him. Stepping over Dean's feet as he crested the landing, Sam paused to assess the situation. Dean lay on his stomach, cradling his head, holding himself perfectly still. On the floor at his right shoulder sat Isabella and Spooky. Both looked up at him with huge expectant eyes, but remained surprisingly calm. Sam noticed that one of Isabella's small hands rested on her father's shoulder. 

"Okay,” Sam said, needing to take action of some kind in an effort not to feel so helpless. "Let's get you up off this floor." 

When Dean actually whimpered, Sam froze, “Or not." 

_Okay._ Straightening, Sam reassessed. First things first. Medication. Cursing himself for the minor delay, he hurried to the master bath and emptied four Imitrex into the palm of his hand, pocketing two of them. Two pills had been sufficient last time. And while this migraine appeared to be worse, Sam was not comfortable giving Dean a dosage any higher than what he had in his hand. 

Sitting on the floor next to his brother, Sam carefully gripped Dean's chin. Dean opened his mouth for him automatically. Sam sighed in relief as he deposited both tablets within. Incapable of chewing the meds or the movement required to swallow, he realized that Dean would have to let them dissolve in his mouth. 

Sam sat silently. Relief was on the way, but it would take time. He smiled at Isabella to let her know it would be okay. Her stoic response told him that she knew that _this_ was not okay. There wasn't much he could say to that, but he could see in her eyes that his presence alone offered a measure of comfort.

Sam kept a close eye on his watch to measure exactly how long it took for the meds to kick in. Dean's breathing was short and shallow, every muscle in his body taut and straining as he awaited relief. Isabella's hand on his shoulder was still, unmoving, as if she knew the slightest variation in touch would exacerbate her father's pain. 

They waited it out patiently over the next 20 minutes or so as the medicine worked its way through Dean's system. When he all but melted into the floor beneath him, limbs heavy and fluid, Sam placed a calming hand on Dean's back between his shoulder blades. Isabella looked up at him. 

_What now?_

Sam gave Dean a few minutes to recover, but wanted to get his brother up and off the floor before the drugs completely overtook him. 

"Come on, man,” Sam quietly encouraged. "Let’s get you to your room."

"No." Dean's voice was faint, breathless, cheek resting on the hardwood floor. "I'm good...jus’...leave...me..."

Sam was somewhat prepared for the response. "I think Isabella would be more comfortable in the bedroom than on the floor, Dean."

The gentle reminder worked. Sam saw Dean seek Isabella's knee and give it a squeeze even has he sighed at the thought of moving. Sam waited for a sign that Dean was ready and hoped that his brother didn't take too long. The meds were fast acting and he knew Dean would be down for the count soon. He wasn’t averse to carrying his brother once he was out, knew that it would likely be easier on Dean that way, but it would be a little traumatic for Isabella, he thought. 

Dean slowly shifted, putting his palms flat on the floor, every movement carefully precise as he pushed slowly to his hands and knees. Isabella removed her hand but stayed close to Dean's side. 

"Okay, just take it slow and easy." Sam waited for a cue from Dean, deciding it didn't matter if he hovered or not, Dean's eyes were closed anyway.

"Dean?" Sam prompted after a few minutes when Dean didn't move. "Come on, man. I've got you." 

Sam wrapped his large hands around Dean's biceps for support, urging his brother to ease back to his knees. Slow and controlled as the movement was, Dean immediately grabbed a handful of Sam's shirt with a low moan. Sam froze as Dean breathed through a wave of nausea, swallowing convulsively. He watched as his brother lowered his head, chin to chest, fighting the urge to vomit.

"You've got it," Sam encouraged softly, one hand sliding from Dean's arm to the back of his neck. "Take your time. Just breathe through it."

Sam's eyes flickered to a concerned Isabella. He'd thrown up on Dean more than once growing up and figured Dean more than owed him one, but for Isabella's sake he seriously hoped that now was not payback time. _Talk about traumatic._

"It's okay, sweetie,” Sam said to Isabella, but she didn't look overly convinced.

The reassurance to Isabella had the opposite effect on Dean. His grip on Sam's shirt tightened and Sam could feel the muscles tensing beneath his touch. 

"She's fine, Dean." Sam's thumb unconsciously stroked the soft hair at the nape of his brother's neck, soothing with touch as well as words. "A little worried, but she's doing okay." He followed the comment with a wink in Isabella's direction. 

She stood next to them, almost the same height as Dean on his knees. Isabella held Spooky in her arms, but adjusted her hold so she could place a hand high on Dean's back, giving him an awkward and adorable pat of comfort. Sam thought he saw the corner of Dean's mouth twitch at that. 

Dean took a few long deep breaths and let them out slowly. Sam let him have the time, knowing that getting Dean to his feet was going to be even harder on him.

"You ready?" He asked when he felt Dean lean into him just a little. 

"Yeah," Dean's voice was whisper soft and resigned as he released his hold.

"Let me do most of the work, okay?" Sam moved in closer, threading his arms under Dean’s. The embrace brought them chest to chest as Sam locked his hands between his brother's shoulder blades. 

Dean's breathing changed and he tensed in anticipation. 

"Relax," Sam said, "we're gonna do this nice and easy."

Dean huffed in a yeah, _easy for you to say way._

"On three," Sam warned as he readied himself to bring them both to their feet. Needing to anchor himself to something, Dean's arms wrapped around him and fisted into the back of his shirt. 

"One. Two." Sam's grip tightened and he pulled Dean to his feet in one steady, fluid movement as the final number left his lips. "Three." 

Dean groaned, his head dropping forward to rest on Sam's shoulder. While his feet were firmly under him, Sam widened his stance to support a good part of his brother's weight. 

"I've got you." Sam let the curve of his jaw rest on the soft bristle of Dean's hair. He could feel each warm exhalation of breath through his shirt as Dean panted through another dizzying wave of nausea. "We're gonna wait right here until you're ready to move." 

Isabella stepped back out of the way, her neck craned as she looked up at them. Spooky didn't look very comfortable in the grasp she held him in. His ears were pressed back flat against his head and Sam suspected the feline was awaiting the first opportunity that presented itself to flee his restrictive confines. 

For a long stretch of minutes, Sam just held Dean. Enjoyed the solid, sleepy warmth of firm muscle and the steady rhythmic echo of Dean's heartbeat next to his. Could practically feel the edge of consciousness blurring as he took more and more of Dean's weight. 

"Okay,” Sam said when he had to step back with his left foot to brace himself. He looked down the hall. Dean's room was about 15 paces straight ahead for him. For Dean, it would be a backward journey. "Let's just take this one step at a time. Nice and easy. Left foot first." 

The medication had taken care of the pain, but its wake had left Dean weak and uncoordinated. He was completely dependent upon Sam to get him to where he needed to be. Sam kept up a constant litany of left, right and almost there in his brother's ear as he guided him to his room. 

About half way there, Dean let Sam know he was still with it enough for barely audible commentary, "...sucks, man."

"Yeah,” Sam agreed with a small sympathetic smile. While he was enjoying the contact and the opportunity to help, he knew how much Dean hated being incapacitated. It left him vulnerable in a way he never did deal with very well. Some things never changed. 

Sam was aware of Isabella quietly trailing them. She hadn't spoken a word since he’d arrived. He was a little concerned about that but knew it would have to wait. He would have Dean settled soon, then he'd have plenty of time to focus on his niece. 

"One more step, man. We're almost there." They took another coordinated step, Sam's left foot moving forward, Dean's right foot moving back until they were flush with the side of the bed. Dean's head was heavy on his shoulder and Sam was pretty sure he was supporting about 80 percent of his brother’s weight. 

He almost over balanced as he shifted Dean's weight back to ease him down onto the bed. His brother didn't even flinch. Sam hoped that meant that the worse part of the nausea had passed. By this time, Dean was almost out and Sam carefully guided him back to the pillows. They both breathed a sigh of relief at the exact same time and Sam caught the fleeting edge of a smile that matched his own at the synchronicity.

Isabella had gone around to the other side of the bed and was climbing up next to her father even as Dean blindly reached for her. She curled up next to him with her head on his chest and his arm wrapped securely around her. When Spooky tried to extricate himself, Isabella finally released him from the strangle hold she'd had him in. The little black cat put some safe distance between them and then shook off the indignity of being manhandled, the tag on his collar jingling softly. 

Sam could tell by Dean's breathing and the flutter of dark lashes on pale skin that he was still awake and he suspected the little form curled up next to him had something to do with that. 

"I'm here, Dean. I'm not going anywhere,” Sam said, sitting on the edge of the bed next to them. "I'll take care of her, I promise."

The hand that wasn't wrapped around Isabella reached in the direction of his voice. Sam caught it in both of his, unfazed by appearances at this point. Dean's grip was strong, grateful, and a little desperate. 

"It's okay." Sam's thumb stroked over the ridge of knuckles in his grip. It wasn’t okay. It was far from okay. But it was what Dean needed to hear. Later they would worry about what could have happened and what they were going to do about it. For now, though, only two things mattered and they were right there with him. "She's safe, Dean. Sleep. We'll be here when you wake up." 

His brother took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Dean's hand rested low on Isabella's hip where she was tucked up against him. His thumb caressed a small patch of skin on her side where her shirt had ridden up. It was the only reassurance he was capable of giving her in the seconds before the grip in Sam's hand went lax and he drifted off.

Sam watched him breathe for a moment, Isabella's head on his chest moving in tandem with each breath. The sound of steady rain permeated his senses. Peripherally, he had been aware of the building storm but was so focused on Dean that he hadn't paid it much mind. It was harder to ignore now. Isabella's eyes widened at a flash of lightening that illuminated the otherwise dimly lit room. The rumbling roll of thunder that followed had Spooky scrambling from the room as if he were on fire and Isabella pressing closer to Dean's side. 

"It's okay, Sunshine,” Sam said warmly, his voice low and soothing. "Just a summer storm. It will pass." 

She blinked up at him uncertainly, eyes heavy. Sam ran a hand over her curls and down the side of her face. "Tired?"

Isabella shook her head in denial though her eyes stayed fixed on Sam. He looked around the room until he spotted a throw. Covering her gently with it, he tucked it around her small body hoping the added warmth would lull her to sleep. After removing Dean's work boots and socks he did the same for his brother, aware that Isabella tracked every movement with a hooded gaze. When he was done, Sam pulled the chair in the corner closer to the bed and sat down, taking hold of Dean's hand again. 

"Are you going to take care of my daddy?" Isabella asked sleepily. 

Sam looked into deep green, innocent eyes. "I’m going to take care of both of you."

Her response was another long, slow blink. Isabella boldly held Sam's gaze until finally she too drifted reluctantly into sleep. Her breathing evened out almost immediately. Sam shook his head affectionately and looked at Dean. 

_She's got your stubborn streak, man. Good luck with that a few years down the road._

Sam listened to the rain as he held Dean's hand in both of his. With his thumbs he lightly traced each individual finger from palm to tip. For the first time since he put this plan into motion, Sam was beginning to question whether or not he was doing the right thing. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Dean's migraines were connected to Sam's sudden reappearance in his life. 

_There’s no telling how his subconscious will respond to your presence._

Sam could admit now that he'd taken John's warning far too lightly. So caught up in what he wanted, Sam hadn't really thought much beyond the immediate desire to be a part of Dean's life. 

Isabella flinched in her sleep as a loud clap of thunder sounded overhead. Sam's large, gentle hand smoothed tendrils of spun gold from her face and she settled once again. Eyes closed Sam tilted his face to the heavens.

_Tell me I'm doing the right thing._

The corresponding flash of lightning could be interpreted a variety of ways. 

With a deep sigh, Sam put his doubts on hold. It was too late for second guesses. His plans from this point on could be altered if necessary, but he couldn't undo what had already been done. Nor would he want to. More than anything he wanted to be a part of Dean and Isabella's life - and if the last few months were all he ever had, then there was no room for regret. 

Sam's mind instead turned to the glimpse he'd seen into his brother's marriage. Jenna had tamed Dean in a way that Sam never would have thought possible. Granted, she had an edge with the amnesia, but despite that, Sam was willing to give credit where it was due. Dean was the center of her universe and Jenna had taken great pains to make sure that he knew it. And better yet, she never let him shy away from it. Watching Dean respond to her love with such open vulnerability had been a privilege...one that Sam was ashamed to admit that he may have taken advantage of. 

Feeling a little guilty, Sam's eyes flickered to Dean. He hadn't planned on overstepping. When the DVD they'd watched last night reached its end, Sam had removed it, intending only to replace the disk back in its case. Instead he'd found himself loading another into the player.

He knew from experience, years of sleeping in the same room that Dean was out and likely wouldn't wake unless roused. His brother had always been a sound sleeper when in safe mode. To his credit, Sam did hesitate. It felt wrong, but in the end, the opportunity had proven entirely too irresistible. Unfortunately, guilt had taken its toll and Sam ended up skipping through a lot of it, stopping only when a particular scene caught his attention. 

A very pregnant Jenna was more than worthy of a pause. Sam watched her curiously for a few long minutes before he realized that she was attempting to paint her toe nails. It had actually been quite comical until, frustrated, she had burst into tears. The picture jarred when the camera was set quickly aside and Dean appeared at her side. 

Dean just knelt there on the floor next to her. Held her until the worst of it passed. Smiled at the charming mixture of pride and embarrassment she didn't even try to hide. Wiped away the moisture on her face with the pads of this thumbs. The look in his eyes telling her over and over again just how beautiful she was to him. 

They didn't speak. They didn't need to. There was just so much love there between them that it nearly put a lump in Sam's throat. 

He'd watched as Dean sat on the floor at Jenna's feet and picked up the bottle of polish. The intense look of concentration on his brother’s face as he carefully painted each nail rivaled the steely eyed gaze that many a spirit once faced at the business end of a sawed-off. Sam smiled at the comparison, even as it gave him butterflies. Jenna ran her fingers through Dean's hair, tips softly combing the velvet growth at the nape of his neck. It was a beautiful moment of quiet intimacy between husband and wife. 

Sam skipped ahead a few scenes.

Dean was sound asleep on his back and quite obviously nude beneath ivory sheets pooled at his waist. One leg was bared, the other bent and canted under the bedding as the camera lovingly traced the lean length of his body. It was a Sunday afternoon in late November nearly four years ago according to the time stamp at the bottom of the screen.

There was a faint sigh behind the camera. _"There are some days I still can't believe you're mine, baby."_ Jenna's voice barely audible as she focused on Dean's lax face, words turning reverent. _"Look at you."_

Sam knew exactly what she saw. Dean always looked softer, younger, more innocent when he slept. Like the hard edges of life had yet to touch him. Pale shafts of sunshine crept through curtains and bathed his profile in golden light. How someone with such a devilish nature could look so damn angelic was beyond him. 

Dean shifted minutely, away from the sun. The change in his breathing told Sam he was close to waking. The arm closest to the camera stretched over Dean's head and disappeared under the pillow before settling again. Sam wondered if Jenna had any idea those fingers were curling around the hilt of a memory she could never hope to understand.

Dean took a deep breath, arching his back and doing a full body stretch. Brow furrowed at the sun on his face, he shifted his head to a shaded part of the pillow and cracked an eye in Jenna's direction. One brow arched in surprise at the camera then bounced suggestively. 

Jenna's laugh was music and every line of Dean's body responded. _"Behave,"_ she said. _"This is for mama's collection not ours."_

Dean was not deterred, his grin sexy and slow. _"We could always delete it later."_

_"We could,"_ Jenna said playfully, _"but it'd be our luck I'd go into labor and we'd forget all about it. Mama loves you baby, but I don't think she's quite ready to see that side of you."_

Dean's smile changed and he reached out to Jenna. The camera angled down to where his hand rested on the swell of her belly. Jenna's hand settled over his. She was wearing one of Dean's t-shirts. 

_"How's our baby girl doing?"_ Dean asked, thumb lightly stroking.

_"I think she likes it in there."_ Jenna responded. _"No sign that she's ready to join us out here yet. Not even a twinge."_

Dean made a thoughtful noise. _"Maybe we should do it again."_

Jenna chuckled. _"Dr. Herley said sex could stimulate labor, Honey. It's not a guarantee”._

_"Does that mean we can't do it again?"_ Dean asked.

The camera slid away and all Sam could see was bedding, like Jenna was no longer paying attention to what she was filming. He heard the unmistakable sound of a kiss. 

_"Oh, no."_ Jenna's voice was a low purr full of promise. _"It doesn't mean that at all baby."_

Sam skipped a head a few more scenes. 

Jenna was sitting on the edge of a hospital bed. She looked exhausted, in pain, and 5 foot 6 inches worth of someone Sam wouldn't dream of tangling with. Dean was seated behind her, massaging her lower back. Jenna glared at the camera. 

_“Mama, if you don't get that camera out of my face..."_

Jenna left it hanging. Dean looked at Liv apologetically over Jenna's shoulder but wisely remained silent. The camera shut off.

When it powered back up the doctor was there and it looked like they were getting ready for delivery. Sam hit skip several times. He had no idea how graphic the recording would be - and he didn’t want to find out. While birth was beautiful in theory, he was in no way prepared to be confronted with the reality. _Just…no._

He watched as Isabella was brought home from the hospital and skipped through several scenes where she was either sleeping or kicking her feet and waving her little arms about. She was pink, wrinkly and absolutely adorable. What little hair she had was so fine and light she looked bald. 

Sam remembered Liv mentioning once that Isabella and Dean shared a connection right from birth. It was obvious in several little scenes with just the two of them, but never more so than in the final captured moment of the DVD. 

Sam could hear movement in the dark, was beginning to see the faint outline of shadows on the screen. Jenna whispered a curse after a muted thump, and yeah, Sam was willing to bet she picked that one up from Dean. It was lighter outside than in and Sam could now make out the familiar kitchen as the camera caught the time on the microwave. It was 1:03 a.m. Jenna unlatched the storm window on the back door and slid it up with a little snick as she shushed herself. 

A full moon cast an ethereal blue glow over everything the back yard. Dean stood at its center as big, fluffy flakes of snow fell in a curtain of beauty all around him. Isabella was in his arms, swaddled six ways to Sunday. Dean had a blanket over his shoulder and arm, the material forming a tent over Isabella's face that sheltered her from the cool snow but allowed father and daughter access to gaze at one another. 

Sam could hear the cadence of Dean's voice as Jenna zoomed in on them. He couldn’t make out what his brother was saying but his heart warmed at the gentle tone. Dean was in profile but Jenna managed to capture Isabella's rapt expression as she studied Dean's face, soaking up every syllable with wide eyes and little o-shaped mouth. 

At one point Dean looked up, eyes fluttering closed as flakes settle on his face and caught on those ridiculously long lashes. Sam'd never seen his brother so at peace. It was a beautiful sight. Never one to be at a loss for words, Dean carried on the one sided conversation with ease for several minutes before wandering back towards the house. Almost to the door, he’d yet to notice Jenna's presence. 

_"Dean,"_ There's several different shades of adoration in Jenna's voice as she says his name. Startled, but pleased by her sudden presence, Dean smiles into the camera. 

_"It's Izzy B's first snowfall. She insisted I introduce her to the flakes"_

_"She did, did she?"_ Jenna was happy to play along. 

_"Isn't that right, darlin'?"_ Dean looked down at Isabella, lightly trailing the tip of his finger over her tiny chin. Glancing back at Jenna he confided, _"She's actually quite the negotiator."_

_"Who needs to negotiate when they've got the most handsome daddy in the world wrapped around their pudgy little finger?"_ Jenna countered.

Dean blinked at her; all innocent _'I-don't–know-what-you're-talking-about'._

Yeah, like he was fooling anyone.

Sam smiled at the memory, flicked his gaze to father and daughter only to find Isabella watching him quietly. 

"Hey,” he said softly, checking his watch. She'd slept just over half an hour. 

It was still raining, but the thunder had moved on for now. Despite looking drowsy and comfortable, Isabella sat up and rubbed her eyes before pushing the covers away. 

"Do you need something, sweetie?" Sam asked as she moved to the edge of the bed. He was really not quite sure what to do with a three year old. 

She watched Sam in silence as she made her way to the attached bathroom. He wasn’t quite sure if she was fully awake. His mouth twitched at the I'm-glad-you're-here-but-you're-so-not-the-boss-of-me look on her face as she closed the door behind her. 

"Okay,” he said to no one in particular, but gave Dean that look again. Boy, are you gonna have your hands full, bro. 

 

Once finished with her urgent business, Isabella made a beeline back to the bed. Instead of lying down, she sat with her legs tucked under her at Dean's side, watching him. Sam had never seen her this quiet. She was like Dean in that respect, always either chattering or moving about in some fashion. It didn't seem natural that she was so still. 

It was nearing five o'clock. Sam hadn't eaten since that morning's pancake breakfast and his stomach was on the verge of a rather embarrassing growl. 

"Are you hungry, Sunshine?" He asked. 

Isabella looked at him, hesitated and then nodded in the affirmative. 

"Me too,” he confided. "How about I see if I can rustle us up for some grub?" 

Sam's eyes softened as he saw the flash of anxiety flicker across her delicate features. It was obvious that she didn't want to leave Dean's side. And that was okay, because Sam had an idea.

"I don't know about you," Sam leaned forward a little as if sharing a secret, "but I'm in the mood for a picnic." 

Isabella looked at him oddly, brows bouncing to her hairline in a move so reminiscent of Dean that Sam just blinked at her in awe. Her gaze swept to the window, subtly reminding him of the rain. 

Sam smiled and said, "Trust me." 

It was a small but thrilling victory when she returned his smile and Sam realized that just maybe she did.

**-wWw-**

Sam surveyed the contents of Dean’s refrigerator and cupboards and decided that one really couldn’t go wrong with peanut butter and jelly. It was also a quick fix that fit the bill perfectly as he wanted to get back to Isabella as soon as possible. He made one sandwich for his niece and two for him, because yeah, he was _hungry_. He poured them both a glass of milk and snagged a couple of apples from the bowl on the counter. A quick search of the pantry yielded a try on which to put everything. A couple more items and he was good to go.

Isabella was exactly where he'd left her. Her eyes lit up as he entered, and he could have been wrong, but Sam suspected it wasn't just because of the food he brought with him. He set the tray down in the chair by the bed and folded Isabella's discarded throw. The towel draped over his arm he laid out on the unoccupied end of Dean's queen sized bed. It just wouldn't do to get jam on the bedding, and if Isabella was anything like Dean it was all but a certainty that it would end up somewhere it shouldn't. 

Sam set the tray at the end of the bed and made sure it was stable. He'd brought a glass of water for Dean, remembering how thirsty the medication had made him last time. Setting it on the nightstand next to the bed, he adjusted the covers and let the back of his hand rest lightly on Dean's cheek. Satisfied that his brother was warm and comfortable, Sam focused his attention on Isabella. 

While dusk was still a couple of hours away, the overcast sky and rain made the room darker than it would normally be. He crossed the room and turned on the lamp next to the window. It cast a soft glow for them to see by without disturbing Dean. Sam was pleased to note that Isabella had carefully scooted her way to the end of the bed and seemed to be waiting for him to settle. 

Sam moved his chair to the end of the bed and sat opposite Isabella with the tray between them. He offered her a sandwich, a cup of milk and one of the apples, but noticed her eyeing the small dish of chocolate chip cookies he'd added as an after thought. Thankfully, it appeared to be a given that she had to eat her meal before indulging, because really, Sam didn't think he'd be able to refuse her anything at this point. 

They ate in companionable silence. Isabella quietly amazed at just how quickly Sam inhaled his food, Sam in turn amazed at just how much his tiny niece was able to put away. It may have taken her longer, but she ate everything he put in front of her, including two of the cookies.

After he took the tray back down to the kitchen Sam stopped at her room on the way back and grabbed some coloring books, crayons, a stuffed animal that was sitting on her bed and some story books. 

Over the course of the next hour, Isabella slowly reverted back to the chatty animated child that Sam knew her to be. She lay on her stomach, feet in the air as she colored and shared her crayons with Sam. They worked in silence for a time, each with their own book, Isabella often glancing over at his work. Sam colored the picture of his Care Bear like he did most everything else, with careful precision. 

When Sam noticed a pinched expression on her face, he paused to ask, “Is there something wrong?” 

A brief struggle played out on her face before Isabella apparently decided she just could not keep her comment to herself. “That’s Funshine Bear,” she said as if that explained everything. 

Sam looked at the picture of his partially colored bear and then back to her with a _yeah, so_ expression that she apparently understood. She flipped the coloring book closed, Sam’s hand marking his page as she pointed to one of the brightly colored Care Bears on the front. “He’s supposed to be yellow,” she said. 

“Oh,” he said. He thought about explaining how it really didn’t matter what color he used and that it was all about creativity and imagination…but then he remembered that when he was a child he absolutely hated it when people colored outside of the lines. _Hated it!_ Instead he said, “It won’t happen again.” 

Once Isabella had gauged his sincerity she pointedly handed him a red crayon. Sam glanced down at the picture again and nodded. The least he could do was make sure poor little Funshine had the right color baseball cap. The exchange seemed to break the ice and open a floodgate of mostly one-sided conversation as they finished their coloring.

Isabella talked about her friends at Miss Chloe's, planting flowers with grandma Liv, Spooky's litter box lessons and how she really wanted a pet penguin to keep in the bathtub. Sam laughed bright and loud at the pouty, _"Daddy said no."_ Dean shifted at the sound and Isabella just looked at him, perplexed. Sam listened to her random comments with amusement as she jumped from topic to topic...God, she really was just like Dean. 

Just before seven Sam made another trip back to Isabella's room for her PJs. She sent him back three times before he finally got the yellow Tinkerbell nightie with the sparkles on the wings, as opposed to the green Tinkerbell with the sparkly flowers or the pink Tinkerbell with no sparkles. He was on the verge of bringing the entire drawer to her if she sent him back again when she gave him _the_ smile, the kind usually reserved for Dean or Liv. And yeah, he'd easily make a hundred more trips for another one of those. 

Around seven-thirty, Isabella crawled into Sam's lap with all three of the story books he'd brought from her room. He held her carefully as she looked up at him with large trusting eyes, and he wondered if on some level, she realized what a privilege this was for him - just to be able to hold her like this. His reverie must have lasted just a tad too long because the look on her face turned impatient and she tapped the book in his hand with her index finger and a raised brow. 

As Sam opened the book, Dean made a soft sleepy noise in the back of his throat and turned his head away from the light. Both Isabella and Sam looked at him hopefully and waited. When it became clear that Dean wasn't quite ready to wake, they shared a disappointed glance and then settled in for a story. 

Sam read all three books, twice, before tucking Isabella in at Dean's side and covering her again with the throw. She blinked at him, tired. He was just thinking about whether or not he should have had her brush her teeth when Dean's cell went off. He recognized Liv's ring tone immediately and followed the sound out into the hall, eventually finding it on the floor at the top of the stairs, where it had been kicked into a corner out of sight. 

"Hey, Liv." 

There was a beat of silence, then a worried, _"Sam?"_

"Yeah.” There was only one reason he'd be answering Dean's phone and they both knew it. His voice was full of calm reassurance as he explained what happened. 

_"I'm just getting back to town now,”_ Liv said. _"I'll be there as soon as I can."_

Isabella was finally sleeping by the time Sam heard Liv pull into the driveway, while Dean was beginning to surface, his body responding with a small flinch as the front door slammed behind Liv and she hurried up the stairs. Sam stood as she entered the room. 

"How is he?" Liv asked as she leaned over Dean and pressed her hand to the side of his face. 

Sam didn't miss the fact that Dean turned his head towards the sound of her voice. "Waking. He's been out for hours." 

He was heartened when Dean seemed to respond to his voice as well. Within moments, dark lashes began to flutter and limbs sluggishly stirred. Dean opened his eyes slowly and blinked at Sam and Liv for several seconds before they drooped closed again. 

"Dean?" Liv asked trying to get his attention. "You with us, honey?"

"Dean, hey," Sam tried when there was no response to Liv's query. "How’re you feeling, man?" 

Dean opened his eyes and met Sam's concerned gaze. It took a few moments for awareness to bleed through as he looked back and forth between Sam and Liv. When it did, confusion quickly turned to panic and Dean surged from the bed, "Isabella!" 

It took him a second to realize that she was right there next to him. Startled awake by Dean's cry and the sudden jostling, Isabella looked up at him with large frightened eyes. 

"Oh, God, oh, baby, I'm sorry." Dean slid his hands under her arms and pulled her into his lap. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry." _So sorry I scared you, baby._ Isabella wrapped her arms tight around Dean's neck as he rocked. "I'm sorry." 

As Dean reacted to Isabella's fear, Liv reacted to his. She sat on the bed behind him with her hands on both his shoulders, visibly affected by Dean's upset state. It was another of those moments when Sam was reminded that he was the outsider. He stood there awkwardly, hands tucked in the front pockets of his jeans. Feeling suddenly intrusive, he made to leave the room. 

He'd taken two steps when Dean’s hand wrapped around his arm just above his wrist. Sam looked down in surprise and saw the same expression quickly hidden on Liv's face. Dean never diverted his attention from Isabella, but he gently tugged on Sam until he sat down on the bed next to them. Sam balanced himself on the bed by placing a palm on the mattress between Dean's outstretched legs. He met Liv's gaze steadily, feeling the weight of her stare over Dean's shoulder. 

He wasn't sure what she saw on his face, but her gaze softened and she held her hand out to him. When he took it, she smiled.

**-wWw-**

Dean was not at church the following day. Not a total surprise given the events of yesterday. But what really bothered Sam was that both Liv and Isabella were not in attendance either. In a continuation of his thoughts from yesterday, Sam spent most of the day questioning his decision to remain in Dean's life. He wanted, more than anything, to have a life with Dean. But it seemed that his very presence was causing his brother pain. He had to make a decision. Tell Dean the truth and deal with the fall out...or leave and give Dean back the life he'd created with Jenna, a life that did not include Sam Winchester.

Goddamn - he hated like hell that John may have been right all along. 

Around six o'clock Liv called him on his cell. "Hello."

_"We missed you at dinner, Sam."_ Liv started. _"Did you get my voicemail?"_

"Ah," Sam was startled to realize how late it was. "No?" Sam guiltily avoided his voicemail these days. There were too many messages from John that he'd yet to return. 

_"We had an early barbecue. Dean and Isabella have already headed home. Plenty of leftovers...I sent yours home with Dean if you want to stop by and pick them up..."_ Liv trailed off and Sam wondered why the conversation suddenly seemed so stilted. 

"Thanks." Sam didn't know what else to say. "Sorry I missed it." 

_"Sam..."_ He'd never heard his name so loaded before. Liv obviously had something on her mind. He held his breath as she hesitated and then sighed. _"Dean really needs our support. He could use a friend right now...if you're available."_

While that may have been true, Sam got the feeling that is not what Liv had intended to say to him. 

"He hasn't called,” Sam pointed out feeling irrationally sensitive and drained from a full day's worth of doubting every decision he'd made where Dean is concerned. 

_"Does he need to?"_ Liv's response was pointed, knowing in a way that Sam wasn't entirely comfortable with. 

"No," he conceded. 

_"He's scared, Sam. Yesterday was the first time since the migraines returned that Isabella was in potential danger. Granted, it's likely she never would have left his side, but just the thought of her sitting there alone, for hours, waiting for Dean to wake up..."_ Liv swallowed her voice unsteady. Obviously Dean wasn't the only one scared. 

_"You remember what I told you about the medication?"_ Sam remembered well. It had given him pause when he'd left Isabella with Dean yesterday while he gathered food for their picnic. The thought of Dean going into convulsions because he hadn’t gotten to his meds was bad enough, but for Isabella to witness that...

Lost in thought, Sam didn't realize that he hadn't answered Liv until she spoke again. 

_"He reached out to you, Sam."_

"What?" Sam felt like he was missing something. 

_"Dean didn't call me, Sam. He called you."_ Liv pointed out. _"When he needed help, you were the first person he thought to call."_

Sam was thoughtful. "He knew you were in Millidge. I was a logical second choice." 

_"Actually, Rand would have been a logical second choice. He bypassed both of us and went straight to you."_ Liv's voice was neutral. _"Why do you think that is?"_

Sam tamped down on the flutter of hope in his belly and responded with, “Why do _you_ think that is?" 

_"Dean feels connected to you, Sam. I don't think he entirely understands why...but it's there. I can see it in the way he looks at you sometimes."_

Surprised by her observation, Sam swallowed. 

_"Sam,”_ Liv’s voice went soft, encouraging. _"Go to him, please."_

"Yeah,” As if there were any doubt that he would. "I'm on my way." 

_"He said something about taking Isabella to the park. If they're not home, try there."_

Before she could hang up, Sam spoke again, "Hey, Liv." A small pause to let his voice convey all the gratitude he felt. "Thanks."

**-wWw-**

Sam rang the bell again, turning to look at the Impala parked in the driveway. With a final knock he walked back to his car and drove the short distance to the park a few blocks away. It was just before dusk on Sunday evening. The sun had dipped low enough to linger behind the trees at the edge of the clearing, casting long shadows over the playground. Dean and Isabella were the only ones there.

Isabella giggled as she dropped the leash to Spooky's harness and allowed him a couple of bounces away from her before she retrieved it. Both cat and child thoroughly enchanted with their little game. Dean sat on a bench nearby, watching. He looked exhausted. 

"Sam!" Isabella noticed him first. She ran to him as he approached, dragging poor Spooky along for the ride as she hugged his leg. 

Sam crouched down in front of her as she released him. "Hey there, Sunshine. I missed you today."

She gave him the smile again, the one that reached her eyes and twinkled back at him. "You missed dinner,” Isabella informed him unnecessarily, then, "Daddy was worried." 

Sam immediately glanced over at Dean, who somehow managed to be looking right at him but not meeting his gaze. He brought his attention back to his niece, repeating the same words he'd said to Liv earlier. "Sorry I missed it." 

"That's okay,” Isabella said. "We saved you some...all 'cept the tato salad." Her voice dropped to a whisper as she finished, "Daddy really likes tato salad." 

Sam chuckled and could feel Dean's smile as he released Isabella. He watched her play with Spooky for a minute before joining Dean on the bench and getting a closer look at his brother. 

"Did you get any sleep at all last night?" he asked.

"A little." Dean's head was lowered, looking down at the bench between them instead of at Sam. His voice sounded off. 

"Hey,” Sam ducked his head, trying to catch Dean's gaze. "You okay?"

Dean didn't respond at first, but Sam could see the fine play of muscles around his mouth as he pursed his lips. Sam fought the urge to reach over and lift his chin. 

"Dean?" 

From beneath a sweep of thick, brown lashes, Dean met his gaze. The I'm fine mask Sam had expected was nowhere to be seen. What he saw instead, what Dean allowed him to see, was the fear and uncertainty that Sam knew he had to be struggling with. 

"I'm not sure I can do this, Sam." Dean's voice was as broken as Sam had ever heard it. 

Because Sam wasn't entirely certain as to what Dean was referring, he remained silent. Dean looked over at Isabella as she played with Spooky, chasing after and missing the leash as the little black cat dodged away from her. 

"I'm all she has left. If I can't take care of her..." When Dean's breath actually hitched, Sam felt his eyes water in response. 

It was on the tip of Sam's tongue to point out he had both Liv and himself as a support system, but he knew that's not what Dean meant. Isabella had already lost one parent, and even though what Dean was experiencing wasn't necessarily fatal, it could seriously hamper his ability to care for her. 

"If you hadn't been there yesterday..." Dean turned his head away, unable to continue for a moment. "I just keep thinking of all the things that could have happened if she were alone the entire time I was unconscious." 

Sam looked away to give his brother some privacy, watched Isabella chase Spooky towards the tree line. 

"Izzy B,” Dean voiced a steady command to stray no further. It always amazed Sam, that invisible bubble of distance between the two that seemed to be so instinctual. Sam had seen it work both ways, though he observed that Isabella seemed a little more comfortable pushing the amount of distance between them than Dean did. 

Isabella understood the order without more being said. She caught Spooky up in her arms and headed back towards the benches, stopping about half way. Dean watched her thoughtfully. 

"What if somebody had come to the door, Sam?" Dean suddenly asked. "Someone could have taken her and I wouldn't have known for hours." 

Whoa. Talk about worse case scenario. And one that Sam hadn't even considered. He could tell by the very real anguish in Dean's voice that his brother had not only considered it, but had likely thought about all the potentially vile reasons for which someone would want to do that. Sam just barely stopped himself from shuddering. 

_Okay, this wasn't doing anybody any good at all._

"That didn't happen, Dean. Thank God it didn't happen." Sam tried to point out the positive. "She's fine, Dean. No worse for the wear. Look at her." 

They watched together as Spooky and Isabella inadvertently slanted a course towards the tree line again. Or perhaps not so inadvertently on Spooky's part. 

"What about next time?" Dean asked, turning to meet Sam's gaze. "I wasn't even sure I should bring her here, Sam. I had to make sure I brought my meds and my cell phone before I felt comfortable leaving the house."

Sam looked away. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. It was hard enough knowing that his presence caused Dean physical pain with the migraines, but the obvious devastation Dean felt at the possibility of Isabella not being safe with him was more than Sam could stand. His mind flashed to the first day he'd arrived in town and tailed his brother to work. He remembered the bounce in Dean's step and the carefree, uninhibited laugh he'd shared with Liv outside of Walker's. Uncertain of his path until this very moment, Sam made his decision. 

"Look, I know this isn't the best time for this,” Sam started, heart already aching but prepared to put things right for Dean, "but there's something I wanted to tell you." 

The tone of his voice had Dean's attention, but Sam saw his eyes flicker to Isabella who was once again testing the limits of the bubble. His chin lifted but he refrained from calling out just as she settled to the grass with Spooky in her lap. 

Dean brought his attention back to Sam with tired but focused eyes. "Sounds serious." 

"Yeah,” Sam looked away again, staring out across the playground. "It's not really working out for me here, man. I think I'm going to be moving on." 

The lump in Sam's throat was so big he was surprised he got the words out at all. He couldn't even look at Dean for a long moment, could feel the sheen of tears in his eyes that he knew he wouldn't be able to hide. It was the lack of any response at all that finally brought his attention back to his brother. 

Dean was staring at him with wide, round eyes. Sam saw the moment that shock turned to confusion. "You're leaving?"

"I have finals to finish up at the University, but after that, yeah." Sam watched Dean's expression carefully. "It's time for me to move on." At this point Sam had no idea if leaving would change anything, but for Dean's sake he was willing to do just about anything. No matter how much it hurt. "I have to." 

Sam saw the mask slide into place, but not before he caught the flash of hurt that Dean was either unwilling or unable to hide. Jaw clenched tightly, his brother turned away from him. 

The incongruency of the moment jarred him. Isabella's laugh as she chased Spooky through quickly fading sunbeams, towards the tree line again, at sharp odds with the raw pain that was threatening to consume him. 

"Dean." Sam's voice was a soft wash of emotion. He wasn't even sure what he was going to say; only that he had to say something. He couldn't leave things like this. 

The decision was taken from him when Spooky finally reached the tree line and a familiar figure stepped from the shadows to prevent Isabella from following. 

Dean was up and moving before Sam could register his shock. His brother's controlled stalk was more desperate than graceful in the attempt to reach Isabella as quickly as possible. Sam was already up and moving as Dean snatched her from the ground where she looked up at the stranger. 

"Who the hell are you?" Dean demanded, Isabella balanced on the hip furthest from perceived danger. 

_Son of a..._ Sam quickly jogged the short distance to his family. He really, really should have returned John's last three calls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! I love John Winchester so of course he had to make another appearance!


	11. Trigger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is really long. Epilogue to follow :)

"Dean, wait." 

Sam joined Dean, standing just behind him. The air was charged with an expectant energy, much like it had been yesterday just before the thunder rolled in. The inevitability of the meeting made Sam uneasy. He wasn't sure Dean was ready for this on top of everything else. 

John Winchester maintained eye contact with his eldest son, but his head was lowered, hands tucked into the front pockets of faded jeans. Sam immediately understood that his father was attempting to appear as non-threatening as possible. He appreciated the effort, but it was a total lost cause. The man resembled a grizzly bear just out of hibernation. Sam shook his head. _Jesus, Dad._ Could the man not have showered and shaved first? He looked like he'd come straight off a three day hunt. 

"I asked you a question, buddy,” Dean growled, in full parental protection mode. 

John's gaze finally flickered to Sam over Dean's shoulder. Sam was both surprised and relieved that his father was clearly giving him the opportunity to guide the encounter. 

"It’s okay, Dean," Sam soothed. Dean reacted to his presence, stance shifting slightly, but didn't stand down from the perceived threat. 

"Yeah?" Dean's voice was hard, clearly unconvinced, "How's that?"

Sam watched as John's eyes strayed to Isabella. She was uncharacteristically silent, no doubt due to the tension she could sense from Dean. A soft, crooked smile stretched across the eldest hunter's face and his father was transformed from grizzly bear to teddy bear right before his very eyes. Sam sighed. It had been going to come to this eventually. He might as well take the bull by the horns. 

Sam placed a calming hand on Dean's shoulder. The spun-gold curls of Isabella's hair tickled his forearm as she looked up at him. Dean didn't react at all until Sam gave a reassuring squeeze. Finally, Dean turned to look at him with a raised brow. Sam purposely let his eyes lock with John's. When he was certain he had Dean's full attention he said, "Hey, Dad." 

Sam felt his brother's start of surprise as he turned back to face John, "Dad?"

John swallowed hard at that but kept his focus on Sam and with a slight nod said, "Son." 

Dean shifted again hiking Isabella higher on his hip, Sam's hand fell away from his brother's shoulder and he stepped forward to take a place at Dean's side. 

"What are you doing here?" Sam was going for casual but the question still came out more pointed than intended. 

John gave a slight shrug, "Just passing through." His answer was just flip enough to piss Sam off. He knew John was irritated with him for not staying in touch, for not keeping him updated on what was happening with Dean. 

Peripherally, Sam noticed his brother watching them both closely, looking back and forth between them, instinctively picking up on the strained subtext.

"So, ah..." Dean said in an apparent attempt to break the tension, "you're Sam's dad?" Switching Isabella to his left hip, Dean extended his right hand to the stranger before him and introduced himself. "Dean Matthews." 

John hesitated, looking at Dean's hand. Sam knew just how surreal this moment had to be for his father. It wasn't often that your first born introduced himself to you, after all. John took the proffered hand and looked at Dean through eyes that were so openly loving that it damn near put a lump in Sam's throat. Sam had been so focused on his own agenda, he forgot that he wasn't the only one with an emotional stake in how this all played out. 

In the spirit of presenting a united front and to put Dean at complete ease in John's presence, Sam did something that went against every fiber of his being - he stepped away from his brother and joined his father's side. 

Sam's unease grew as Dean frowned, his gaze encompassing both of them for the first time in over five years.

Voice surprisingly steady, Sam stood just behind John's shoulder, two or three inches taller and said, "I'd like you to meet my father, John Winchester." 

Head canted and brow knitted, Dean eyed both Sam and John carefully. The long moment of silence that followed bordered on awkward until Isabella piped in with a wave and a cheery, "Hi!" in John's direction.

"Hello, Sweetheart," John responded with an affectionate grin he didn't even bother to try and hide. Sam absently noted that Isabella did not call him on the nickname. 

"Dean?" Sam asked, concerned when Dean continued to merely stare at them. 

Dean's lack of response finally permeated. "Yeah," he visibly tried to shake off whatever was unsettling him, his response delayed, "sorry...just, wow, déjà vu or something, man. Don't mind me." He held his hand out to John again, either unaware or forgetting that he had just shaken the man's hand. 

John and Sam shared a worried glance. This seemed to unnerve Dean even more. When John reached to shake his son's hand again, Dean pulled back, eyes narrowing. "Are you...have we…?" 

Sam tensed as Dean trailed off, looking more confused and uncertain by the minute. Despite that, he watched as Dean tried to pull his scattered thoughts together and form a coherent sentence. 

"Sorry," Dean apologized again. "I just...I feel like I know you from somewhere." 

John's drawl was slow as molasses, the corner of his mouth quirking. "Guess I've just got one of those faces." Only someone who knew his father well would recognize just how forced the response was. 

Dean continued to study John, distracted. "Right." 

The stilted standoff ended with Isabella's shrill shout, "Spooky!" she said pointing to the tree line. 

For all of the kitten's tenacity in reaching the woods, Spooky had not ventured very far. The little black cat was currently covered in pine needles, playfully wrestling with the end of his leash. 

"I've got him," Sam said as he retrieved the wayward pet. His intentions were to hold on to the cat, but Isabella's outstretched arms indicated she had other ideas. 

When he stepped forward to hand off the kitten, Dean surprised him by taking a step back. Sam froze at the deliberate movement. 

"Dean?" 

Whatever Isabella sensed from Dean had her subsiding without argument, her arm going back over her father's shoulder. 

"Something's not..." The tips of Dean’s fingers stroked his temple. Sam frowned, recognizing the familiar tug at the corner of his brother’s eyes. He stepped forward in concern, stopping only when Dean took another step back, arm extended to keep him at bay. Sensitive eyes blinked against the setting sun and Dean’s voice was a ragged whisper, “Wait,” he said, obviously unsettled, “just...give me a minute.” 

Sam immediately backed off, the hand not holding the little black kitten rising in placation. "Dean," he asked with careful deliberation, "where's your medication?" This was so not the place to deal with a debilitating migraine. 

At the sound of Sam's voice, Dean met his gaze and held it, though it was obviously painful for him to do so. Sam was surprised to see a muted wariness in the deep green depths of his brother's eyes that he hadn't seen in months. The distress he felt at that must have shown on his face. Dean's expression immediately morphed into one of concern and his body shifted towards Sam unconsciously. 

Sam could tell that the reaction confused him. Distracted by whatever was going on inside his head, Dean didn't respond. 

"Boys?" John's voice was quietly commanding, holding a hint of sharp and familiar annoyance at being the outsider to his son’s silent communication. 

Dean was visibly startled by the tone. When Sam took a hesitant step forward, drawing his brother's gaze, something shifted between them, a momentary spark of recognition that sent Sam's heart racing and his hope surging. 

"Dean?" Sam tried to remain calm, he really did, but it was all there in his voice. 

His brother’s eyes widened. The hand that wasn't wrapped around Isabella reached abortively for his head, pausing to swipe away a cobweb of _something._ Dean took another step back, panic beginning to replace confusion. He turned away from John and Sam and staggered, almost losing his balance. Sam saw Isabella clutch a handful of Dean’s shirt as his hold loosened and she began to slide from his grasp. Thankfully instinct took over and Dean's arm tightened around her as Sam and John bracketed the pair protectively on either side. 

"Easy, kiddo,” John’s voice was low and soothing, but didn't seem to register. 

"Sam..." Dean looked at him as if seeing him for the first time his gaze wild and searching. _What's happening to me?_

Sam’s first instinct was to reach out, but Dean wasn’t responding well to that. The decision was taken from him when Dean went to his knees with a sharp, startled gasp, free hand clutching his head. He managed to hold onto Isabella on the way down, but she hit the ground off-balance and landed on her bottom next to him. She looked truly frightened for the first time. When John would have moved forward to assist, Sam raised a hand to stay him, though it was likely the plea in his eyes that won reluctant compliance. Dean knew _him._ Trusted _him._ Dad would have to earn that on his own. 

His other arm suddenly free, Dean clutched his head tightly in both hands. Curling in on himself, muscles straining against the pain, Dean's initial cry of agony shifted to a low rolling moan in the back of his throat. The tips of his fingers pressed white against his skull as he bowed forward on his knees, forearms resting on the ground in front of him. 

Sam knelt next to him and released a suddenly squirming Spooky. For Isabella's sake he hoped the kitten didn't go too far, but at the moment he had bigger concerns. He rested one hand on Dean's iron-tense back and couldn't help but notice that the pain was different. Dean struggled, rocking and surging against the pain whereas previously it had all but immobilized him. Always before there had been some measure of awareness on Dean's part - he knew Sam was there and that he was trying to help. That didn't seem to be the case this time. Dean could do nothing but react to the pain. Feeling a growing sense of urgency Sam searched his pockets for the two pills he'd lifted yesterday when Dean had collapsed at the top of the stairs. He’d taken them as a precautionary measure only…on the off chance that something like this could happen. 

Sam knew that if the pain wasn’t dealt with immediately, the situation was going to go from bad to worse. Peripherally he saw John retrieve his cell phone from his pocket, ready to call 911 if necessary. Isabella watched her father with wide eyes, but overall remained eerily calm, much like she had the day before. _Maybe it's genetic,_ he thought randomly. Dean had a history of doing the same. The more extreme the situation, the more intensely focused his brother became. 

Dean's jaw was locked. Sam tried to deposit the medication several times to no avail. He was beginning to panic as one of Dean's hands dug deep into the ground, fisting a handful of grass. Sam looked to John helplessly as a quiet, pain-filled sob echoed in the space between them. Though he knew it would initially cause more distress, he was on the verge of forcing the issue when Dean cried out, every muscle in his body strung tight as he arched against the pain. Then, as if some invisible force cut the strings keeping his body taut, Dean collapsed in a boneless heap beneath Sam's hand. Still on his knees, head to the ground, Dean sagged in relief, panting harshly.

Sam's gaze flickered to John, uncertain. He wasn't sure what to do - this was all new. There was a struggle in his father's eyes, but in the end, his gaze was steady, encouraging. He was letting Sam take the lead here. Sam's attention was drawn back to Dean as fine tremors, residual effects from the pain, worked their way through his brother’s body. Dean had released his head, his hands loosely braced on the ground as he tried to catch his breath. 

"Dean?" Sam prompted, voice surprisingly steady, "Come on, man. You with me?"

Sam's hand was still resting on Dean's back. If not for that he wouldn’t have felt the subtle jolt at his words. There was a pause, as if for a split second his brother had stopped breathing. Dean's hand, the one closest to Sam's knee, flexed, moving and inch or two towards the sound of his voice. 

"Talk to me, man," Sam encouraged, "Say something." 

It took nearly a minute for his brother to respond. Then finally, panting softly, his voice small and uncharacteristically weak, Dean spoke. It was one word only, but it was enough...and it changed everything. 

"…Sammy?" 

For the span of several heartbeats, time stilled for Sam. Every ounce of hope he'd felt over the last three months culminated in one deeply drawn breath. _Please, God._

Gently, Sam helped ease his brother back to his knees. Saw Dean's eyes close at the movement. 

"Dean?" 

John and Isabella had, for the moment, melted away. Sam's entire focus was for Dean only.

"Open your eyes, man." Sam's breath finally hitched. "Look at me." _Remember me._

Dean did as he was asked and Sam nearly wept at the recognition he saw in confused, moss colored eyes. The concerned gaze that met his was not that of the friend he had made over the last few months, but that of the brother he'd known since birth. Sam could feel the smile spreading across his face, but was oblivious to the tears that broke free. 

Dean's brow furrowed, head titling subtly to the right as he gazed at him, "You okay, Sammy?"

He laughed then. He couldn't help it. Full of relief and joy, and maybe just a tinge of hysteria, Sam laughed. "Yeah," he said tenderly, "I'm just fine." _Now._

Dean regarded him carefully, as if Sam were the one that was touched in the head. It didn’t matter. Between one moment and the next, it was as if the world, which had been slightly askew since John showed up at Stanford, had finally righted itself. It didn't matter what happened next, if Dean never remembered the feelings they shared for each other, it was enough just to have his brother back. 

"Here," Sam said, holding Dean's medication out in the palm of his hand. "Take these." He wasn’t sure what was going on, but he knew his brother couldn’t handle another migraine like the one he’d just experienced. He hated that the medication would put Dean out – but it would also prevent any other occurrences. 

Dean's eyes flickered from the pills to Sam, but he took them without question. 

"Daddy?"

Dean visibly jerked as he became aware of Isabella. She moved to hug him, but was held back as Dean caught her by slim shoulders. He held her at arm’s length and just looked at her. 

Sam watched with veiled panic, fearing for one long horrifying moment that just because Dean remembered him that he’d perhaps forgotten everything else. Isabella's entire body angled towards her father, seeking reassurance. Sam was aware of John's very focused attention as they both held their breath, waiting to see what Dean would do. 

Dean looked at his daughter with conflicting emotions - fear and awe both vying for dominance. He looked at her like he'd never seen her before but yet knew every inch of her in a way that only a father could. When Isabella's distress finally permeated his shock he pulled her to him swiftly, but gently. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he held her tightly, burying his face in her hair. 

"It's okay, baby," Dean whispered, rocking back and forth on his knees, "everything's going to be okay." He still looked pretty shell-shocked himself, but his voice was steady, "I promise."

Dean gave Isabella the time she needed, let her cling to him until her grip turned less desperate. It wasn't until she pulled back slightly that Dean leaned forward and set her on her feet in front of him. He smiled at her reassuringly and took time to smooth back her hair and adjust her jumper. Again, Dean just looked at her. He opened his mouth to speak and then faltered, shaking his head as if he just couldn’t believe that the beautiful creature before him was truly his. Finally he took her tiny face in his hands and kissed her forehead. 

“Everything’s going to be fine,” Dean reiterated then pulled back to look her in the eye. “I need you to be a big girl for Daddy, okay?” 

Isabella had that crease in her brow that was so similar to Dean’s. It deepened at his words. “I am a big girl,” she said, managing, despite her lingering upset, to sound just a touch indignant. All three adults smiled. 

“We’re going to do something a little different tonight,” Dean said. “Sam is going to drive you to Grandma Liv’s for a sleepover.” 

While sleepovers at Liv’s were not uncommon, they were usually on a Friday or Saturday night. Dean kept Isabella to a relatively structured schedule for the most part, and a sleepover on a Sunday night was highly unusual. Not quite ready to be separated from her father, Sam saw the protest building in the expression on her face. Dean cocked an eyebrow, reminding Isabella of her previous comment. She subsided with a pout. 

While Liv was Isabella’s second favorite person in the world, Sam could completely sympathize with her desire to cling a little closer to Dean after what just happened. He felt the same way. 

“Can I take Spooky with me?” Isabella asked. 

When Dean gave the nod, Sam scooped up the playful black kitten, which had luckily not strayed too far, and handed him to Isabella. She hugged him a little too tightly. The effects of the drugs were beginning to show in Dean. Sam knew that he would hold on as long as he could for Isabella’s sake, but that it was a losing battle. He had to get her out of here so that John could get Dean home. He held his arms out to his niece.

“C’mere, Sunshine,” he said. 

Isabella hesitated long enough to wrap one arm around Dean’s neck. “I love you, Daddy.” 

Sam swallowed. While the affection between the two was obvious on any given day, an outright declaration was always special. Isabella was obviously still a little unsettled. Dean returned her hug until Spooky meowed pitifully, confined between them. Father and daughter broke the embrace with a giggle from Isabella at the kitten’s expense. 

“I love you, too, Darlin’,” Dean said ducking his head and holding her gaze. “I know I scared you and you’ll never know how sorry I am for that.” Isabella’s eyes were large as Dean acknowledged her fear. “But Daddy needs you to trust him right now.” There was complete confidence in Dean’s voice now as he said, “Everything’s going to be okay. I promise.” 

Isabella nodded, the conviction in her father’s voice all she needed to hear, her trust in Dean implicit. With a guiding hand from Dean, she turned to Sam. He didn’t give her the option of walking, instead he picked her up, balancing her weight on his hip as he looked down at Dean on his knees. Sam felt the pull to stay, but knew that he had to do this for Dean - was relieved to see the same implicit trust in his brothers eyes that Sam would see Isabella safely to Liv's. 

 

Sam took a reluctant step back, eyes locking with John's where he stood behind Dean. _You got him?_

At John's sharp nod, Sam shared a final glance with Dean before turning and departing with Isabella. "Let's get you to Grandma's, Sunshine." 

Sam walked to his rental at the edge of the park. He didn't have a car seat but he'd found quite by accident a few weeks ago that the vehicle had a built-in one in the center of the backseat. He never imagined he'd have occasion to use it. Dean without his memory, despite the friendship they were building, would never have allowed Sam to take Isabella anywhere on his own. It took him a minute to figure out the straps and make sure they were snug enough without being too tight. Isabella was patient about the whole thing. Sam may have just imagined it, but Spooky was the one who seemed to be looking at him like he was an idiot. 

"Shut up," he said to the little kitten blinking up at him from the seat next to his niece. 

Isabella looked startled for a second before giving a delighted giggle. She made eye contact with him and they shared a moment that for Sam affirmed that everything really was going to be okay. From the moment his brother met his gaze Sam knew that he was going to be all right, but it wasn't until this very moment that he acknowledged that it just wouldn't be okay at all if it was at Isabella's expense. 

"Ready?" he asked. 

Isabella nodded, scooping Spooky back into her arms for the ride. She looked no worse for the wear and Sam marveled at her resilience. _Okay, then._ He closed the door and spared a final look in Dean's direction, pausing before he climbed into the driver's seat. John was kneeling in front of Dean, one hand wrapped around the back of his son’s neck, their heads together as Dad offered the intimate comfort and reassurance that Sam longed to give. 

Sam felt a twinge of…not jealousy so much as envy. Dean was close with John in a way that Sam had long since rebelled against. His trust in their father was absolute – had never wavered the way Sam’s had. A look, a touch, one word from John was all it took to put his brother at ease. As much as Sam wanted to resent the man’s presence, he found that, for Dean’s sake, he could not. Dean was going to need that. He was going to need them both. 

The ride to Liv’s was quiet. Isabella’s voice low as she carried on a conversation with Spooky in the backseat. Sam resisted the urge to step on it as he made his way through town, the look in Dean's eyes as he left still fresh in his mind, reminding him of the precious cargo he carried. He considered calling ahead to let Liv know he was coming, but decided against it in the end. She would have too many questions. 

“We’re here,” Sam announced as he put the car in park. He knew from previous visits that Liv had several changes of clothing on hand for Isabella and he was fairly certain she had pajamas as well so he hadn’t bothered stopping at the house to grab anything. So long as she had Spooky, Isabella would be as content as she could be without Dean. 

“Sam, what…?” Liv opened the door before he could knock. 

Isabella practically leaped from his arms to Liv’s. Surprised, Liv held her close, one hand going to the back of her head as she gazed wide-eyed at Sam over her granddaughters shoulder. Isabella was never clingy. Automatically on alert, Liv's gaze sharpened as she studied him. That it was another migraine was obvious, but, "What's happened?" she asked. 

Sam met her gaze but didn’t respond. He was fidgety, anxious to get back to Dean. 

"Something's different," Liv was upset, but doing well to keep it in check for Isabella's sake. "What is it, Sam?" 

Sam both loved and loathed how observant the woman was. He didn't want to lie, but he didn't have time for this. "Nothing. It's just...it was pretty bad, Liv." He let his eyes stray to Isabella meaningfully, then, "I've gotta get back, I don't want to leave him alone too long." 

Liv hesitated, troubled eyes full of love and concern for his brother. "He can't go on like this, Sam. Something's gotta give...and I'm afraid what that might be." 

"It's going to be okay," Sam said. It was meant to be placating but he heard the certainty in his voice as clearly as Liv did. "Dean's going to be fine." 

She held his gaze for a long moment and then subsided with a nod. "Take care of him, Sam." 

"I will," he said with a nod as he turned to leave - almost missing Liv's soft response.

"I know you will."

**-wWw-**

Though he was feeling a sense of urgency that wasn't altogether rational, Sam stopped at the Corner Store for a large cup of the coffee that Dean loved for both himself and John. It was going to be a long night, and John especially had looked like he could use a little caffeine infusion to get him through it. He regretted the decision when he ended up in line behind a scratch ticket aficionado who'd just won thirty bucks playing Lucky Casino. Instead of taking the money and calling it good, the guy was slowly deciding the best way to divvy up his winnings on more tickets. _Idiot._

Thankfully, Trina, the cashier, sensed his frustration and caught his eye. There were benefits to living in one place long enough to become a regular. 

"Just the coffee, Hon?" she asked knowingly. 

Sam handed her a five with a grateful smile, "Keep the change." 

The sun had all but set, painting a beautiful swath of quickly fading red and orange across the western portion of the sky as he made his way back to Dean's. Sam barely noticed it as he pulled into the drive next to the Impala, John's truck a hulking presence on the street in front of the house. 

The door was unlocked, the house dark as he made his way inside. Sam flipped the light on in the kitchen to see by as he made his way towards the stairs. He wasn't surprised to see John sitting in his chair next to the bed when he entered the dim room. 

"Here," he said, handing John a coffee and walking around him to the other side of the bed. He turned on the small lamp next to the window, toed off his sneakers, and sat next to Dean on the bed. "How's he doing?" 

John took a large grateful sip of his coffee as Sam bent his legs and tucked his feet under him. 

"I had to practically carry him up the stairs," John responded, his eyes trained on Dean's sleeping face. "What did you give him?" 

"Imitrex. He's got a script for it," Sam answered. "It hits him pretty hard." 

John snorted, _Yeah, no shit._

The silence between them stretched, not uncomfortably, just there, as they sipped their coffee to the sound of Dean's soft breathing.

Sam waited it out. He knew that John had something to say to him and that it would likely come out sooner rather than later. He eyed his father surreptitiously. The man looked so worn out that it was hard not to feel some sympathy for him. Sam found himself softening despite himself. It was of course at that time that John chose to open his mouth. 

"I don't know whether to thank you or throttle you, kid." John's voice was rumbly deep, but didn't hold the anger that Sam was expecting. "This could have gone wrong on so many levels." 

One of Sam's brows arched upwards in surprise, at the tone more than anything. John's gaze left Dean and settled heavily on him. "It still could." 

"I know," Sam agreed. He'd known from the beginning that he was taking a risk. But it was also a risk he knew that he couldn't not take. "I had to, Dad. I just...I had to." 

John looked at him intently for a long time. Sam held his gaze, refusing to fidget. Despite the sometimes volatile nature of their relationship, it would have killed him to see even the slightest hint of disgust in his father's eyes. 

"And if he doesn't remember?" John asked pointedly. There was no question as to the meaning behind the query. It was the first time John had openly, albeit subtly, acknowledged this thing between his sons. Sam didn't hesitate in his response. 

"It doesn't matter," he said truthfully. "He's my brother. I want him in my life." 

John looked sad, a little resigned as his gaze returned to Dean. Sam had the feeling that as badly as he was hoping that Dean would remember the feelings between them, John was hoping he would not. 

Sam was content to return to the silence after that. This was not something they could discuss. There was a clearly defined line here and they stood on opposing sides. The unfortunate part of it was that, as usual, Dean was in the middle. And they both knew it. 

John gave it a valiant effort, he did, but he’d been without sleep for too long. He began to droop not long into their vigil. 

"There's a guest room down the hall if you wanna get some shut eye,” Sam suggested quietly. "He's going to be out for a few hours." 

John straightened in the chair, rubbing a hand over his face. One hand braced on his knee he continued to watch Dean. Sam eyed him curiously. 

“All I see when I close my eyes is him in that damn hospital bed,” John said roughly. 

Sam remained quiet. He wanted to hear what his father had to say, was afraid if he said anything at all that John would suddenly realize that he was caring and sharing. 

"He was so pale. So still." John looked down at his feet. Just when Sam thought he was done, he said, "I thought we'd lost him." 

Sam swallowed. A part of him would never forgive his father for not calling him, never forgive himself for not being there. Yet there was a small part of him that was grateful to be spared the immediate agony of what John had gone through when Dean was in the coma. 

"Whatever happens,” John said with finality, "we'll deal with it. He's alive. That's all that matters." 

Sam knew better than to take that as any kind of tacit approval in regard to the feelings he had for his brother, but he couldn't help but feel heartened all the same. He didn't dare jinx it by responding. 

John was unsteady as he stood, steps tired and heavy as he made his way down the hall to the guest room. Sam heard muted and familiar snoring a few moments later. He took a deep breath, shoulders relaxing infinitesimally. Having John here to share the burden of worry was okay, but he was glad to be alone with his brother once again. 

"The ball's in your court, dude," Sam said quietly. 

He watched the rise and fall of Dean's chest and the hand that rested lax and comfortable on his stomach. Sam extended one finger, stroking Dean's arm just above the curve of elbow finding the skin cool to the touch. He pulled the throw at the end of the bed over his brother, the corner of his mouth quirking affectionately at the small sigh and subtle snuggle into the warmth it provided. 

"I don't know what's gonna happen, but it's good to have you back, man."

**-wWw-**

Sam wasn't sure what woke him. He barely remembered curling up around midnight with his arm as a pillow when he realized Dean had slipped into a more natural slumber and wouldn't be waking. Yawning, he stretched out his arm and checked his watch for the time.

2:51 A.M. 

His brother had been out for nearly seven hours. Movement from the other side of the bed had Sam sitting up in anticipation, and was likely what had woken him in the first place. He watched as Dean, still on his back, turned his head away from him and shifted his legs restlessly. A little disappointed when he settled again, Sam planted his feet on the floor and stood. The lamp by the window was still lit, casting a soft glow on one side of the room. 

"Sammy?"

Sam was mid-stretch facing away from the bed when he heard the whisper soft query. 

"Here," Sam said, moving quickly to the other side of the bed and sitting in the chair John had vacated a few hours ago. "I'm right here, Dean." 

Dean blinked owlishly, remnants of sleep clinging to too long lashes. 

"Hey," Sam's voice gentle, "how do you feel?"

Despite the use of the dreaded nickname he didn't mind quite so much anymore, Sam felt the butterflies return to his stomach when Dean didn't respond. 

_Please, God._

"What do you remember?" he asked as neutrally as possible. 

Sam watched as Dean's thoughts turned inward, considering the question. 

"I..." Dean paused, uncertain. The look on his face grew more intense as he tried to force it. Finally, giving up, he expelled a loud sigh, and pressed the heel of his hands to his eyes. "It's...everything's...mixed up." 

"It's okay," Sam soothed, praying that what he was about to say was true, "it'll work itself out. Just give it time." 

When Dean didn't move or respond, Sam gave in to the temptation to reassure himself. 

"Dean?" he asked hesitantly, "You do remember _me_ , right?" 

At that, Dean removed his hands from his eyes and just blinked at Sam. And despite the fact that for five years his brother had no memory of him, Dean just looked at him. 

_Like I'd ever forget you, Sammy._

It was the look that went along with it, the _as if, idiot_ , that eased the knot in Sam's stomach and had the corner of his mouth quirking.

Then, tilting his head the tiniest bit, eyes narrowed, Dean asked, "Dude, aren't you supposed to be in school?"

"Ah," Sam tried to keep his voice light, but his concern returned. "Graduated. Remember?"

Dean frowned, searching gaze turned inward again. It took a second or two but there was certainty in both his eyes and voice as he pointed his index finger at him. "University. Teacher." 

Sam nodded, relieved. 

Dean shook his head slightly and tried to hide a yawn. "Teacher, huh? What happened to law school?"

Sam ducked his head. "Guess I found something I loved more than law." 

The double meaning was not lost on him. Sam peeked through his bangs to gauge Dean's reaction. 

Sam could tell that Dean was curious, but it was also obvious that despite seven hours of sleep, his brother was still exhausted. Dean yawned, blinking slowly a couple of times before his eyes finally drifted shut. Sam was patient and quiet as he waited it out. After a couple of minutes Dean pried his eyes open again. 

Sam smiled at him warmly, full of affection. "Sleep. I'll tell you all about it in the morning."

For a second Sam thought his brother was going argue. Instead his eyes slipped reluctantly closed with a barely audible, "'Kay."

Sam watched him sleep for a long time. This was different than his previous bedside vigils. While he and Dean had become friends, it had been a stranger's gaze with a familiar face that met him when Dean woke from a migraine. It lacked the shared history and brotherly intimacy that he would never again take for granted. Now, it felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He had his brother back. 

Dean stirred again only a half hour later, a little more with it this time. He looked surprised to find Sam still watching over him. 

"Can't sleep?" Sam asked.

Dean sighed and threw off the covers. "Nature calls," he said, but didn't look inclined to move otherwise. 

After a moment Sam stood, pushed the chair back and offered his brother a hand. Dean accepted but swayed alarmingly when he got to his feet, eyes closed. Sam gripped his hand tighter, free hand going to Dean's elbow to keep him balanced. 

Sam gave him time to get his bearings. "Okay?"

A couple seconds later and with a not so overly convincing, “I’m good,” Dean was shuffling barefoot into the attached bathroom. 

“Hey,” Sam called out before he could shut the door. “I’m gonna grab a drink. You want something?” 

Sam knew the medication made Dean thirsty. He also knew that his brother wouldn’t outright ask him for anything for himself. 

“Yeah.” Dean‘s voice was still rough with sleep. “That’d be great. Thanks.” 

In the time it took Sam to make his way to the kitchen and fill a couple of glasses with water, Dean had finished his business and returned to bed, was propped up against the headboard, arms and ankles crossed, eyes closed. If it weren’t for the short amount of time he’d been gone, Sam would have thought he’d fallen back to sleep. 

“Here,” he said as Dean’s eyes opened. “Drink this.”

Sam had done this whole bedside vigil migraine thing a few times now. It seemed to surprise his brother each and every time just how thirsty he really was. The first sip was always tentative, not sure if he wanted it or not. A teaser. The next thing Sam knew, his brother was downing the entire glass as if his life depended on it. He didn’t even stop to take a breath, just pulled in a big lung full of air when the glass was empty, wiping stray drops from his chin with the back of his hand. Sam took the empty glass and immediately handed Dean the other full one. 

Dean looked at the glass, and then at Sam, only now recognizing the ruse. He took it, holding Sam's gaze over the rim as he drank. When he'd had enough he set the remainder on the bedside table, watching as Sam placed the empty glass next to it. 

Sam didn't say anything, was willing to let Dean set the course of conversation. 

Dean looked around his room as if he were seeing it for the first time. He shook his head ruefully, looking awkward and sheepish for the first time. 

"Pretty trippy, huh?"

"What?" Sam asked, though he had a pretty good idea.

“This,” Dean gestured abortively to the room. “Me. The house. The kid. It just…” Dean sounded lost and completely overwhelmed. “I mean, this whole settling down gig was always more your thing than mine…” 

Sam nodded as Dean trailed off. He'd thought the same thing once, just a few short months ago. Dean had proven him wrong though. 

"I don't know," Sam treaded carefully but honestly, understanding how out of depth his brother felt. "It suites you, man. Really." 

Uncertain, Dean met his gaze from beneath a sweep of lashes. Sam's smirk was gentle, his eyes teasing as he swiped an imaginary stray tear. "My brother, a card carrying member of the PTA." He shook his head, all mock-proud.

Dean's smile was genuine, if a bit shy, "Shuddup." 

Sam laughed, and God, didn't it feel good. 

"Seriously, dude, you totally rock the parental vibe," he said, and then ducking his head added, "I always knew you'd be a good father." 

Dean looked a little startled by the sincerity. 

"Isabella," Sam continued, "she's great, man."

"Yeah," Dean agreed with a touch of pride, but was obviously still overwhelmed by the idea. "Can you believe it, man? Me. A father. Who'd have thought?"

Sam felt John's presence just before he heard him. They both looked up to see John, sleep-rumpled, leaning against the door jamb. "You've always been great with kids," he said, "Hell, you practically raised this runt." John's eyes cut to Sam briefly. 

"Dad." It was whispered with such love and reverence that Sam had to look away. 

"How you feelin', sport?" John stepped into the room. Out of ingrained respect, Sam immediately gave up the chair to his father and claimed a spot on the other side of the bed.

Dean's reunion with John in the park had been brief, clouded by the medication that was overtaking his system. To say that he was emotionally affected by John's presence was an understatement. His expression was a touching mixture of unconditional love and undeniable betrayal.

"Where?" His brother swallowed unable to finish, though the question was clear. _Where have you been? Why weren't you here?_

"Here," John understood, his eyes bright and full of emotion. "I've been here, for everything, son." He reached out, gripping Dean's arm just above his wrist. "I've been here." 

Dean continued to look at him, wrecked, uncertain.

"Everything I ever wanted for you, you had with Jenna," John explained. "I wasn't going to risk that just because I wanted to be a part of your life." 

John's tone was matter of fact. He delivered the words carefully, with no hint of apology. Sam couldn't help but feel defensive, like John was saying that he'd cared enough to not go barging into Dean’s life the way Sam had. He bristled, but remained silent. 

"And, well...by the time Jenna...when she was killed," John stumbled a little at the pain that flared in Dean's eyes, "I didn't want to bring the hunt back into your life, cause you any more pain than you were already dealing with." 

Dean's eyes widened in alarm, "Isabella!” John’s mention of the hunt likely conjured an image of every nasty supernatural threat out there. "She's not safe, I have to..."

"Whoa, there, cowboy," John said, placing a firm hand on Dean's chest as he tried to rise. "She's safe. I promise. I wouldn't leave you unprotected."

Dean relaxed, but didn't settle, his posture radiating one thing. _Explain._

"You remember the hitch you and Jenna had closing on the purchase of the house?" John asked with that secretive little smile that Sam hated. 

Momentarily confused by the subject change, one of Dean's brows suddenly swept upward in surprise.

_You?_

John's smile stretched wider. 

"Bobby, Joshua and I went through every inch of this place while you were on your honeymoon." John revealed. "Every point of entry has a salt line caulked beneath it, you've got protection symbols in every room under two coats of paint and there are hex bags at all four corners. Hell, you've even got a Devil's Trap carved into the ceiling in the foyer, on the off chance a demon did make it past a salt line. Joshua's work. He even prettied it up with some other carvings, for Jenna's benefit." 

Amazed, Dean just blinked at him as he finished. Truly surprised Sam said, "Wow." 

"Liv's?" Dean finally asked. 

"Ah," John answered. "That was a little harder, did that one myself, a little at a time, when she was at work or in Millidge for the day. Isabella is as safe there as she is here. Miss Chloe's, too." 

Now, Sam was intrigued. "How'd you manage that?" he asked.

"Told her the house wasn't up to code for home-based daycare but she qualified for a small government grant to have the upgrades done free of charge. Bobby and I brought Caleb in on that one." John shrugged then added, "She had to close the daycare for a week, but we got it done. 

Dean was impressed, Sam could tell. He'd relaxed back against the pillows as John talked, secure in the knowledge that Isabella was safe. "I remember that," Dean said a little in awe, "Liv took the week off to watch Izzy B." 

"’Course all of that was a cakewalk compared what I had to do to get into your brothers dorm,” John said, turning a mock glare on his youngest. 

Shocked, Sam actually gaped. It hadn't occurred to him that John would do the same for him. 

"I was never so glad as when you finally moved off campus, kid,” John said, enjoying Sam's rare speechlessness. 

"Dad," he finally said, "I don't know what to say..." but he really felt like he should say something. 

"Don't say anything," John said seriously, looking at both of them in turn. "It's my job. You think I'd be able to do what I do everyday and sleep at night knowing you were unprotected?"

When Sam and Dean just blinked at him with a who-are-you-and-what-have-you-done-with-my-father look in their eyes John continued.

"That's rhetorical," he said before the silence could get awkward. "Let’s not get too carried away with the...what did you used to call 'em?" John looked askance to Dean, before he seemed to remember the correct terminology, "Chick-flick moments." 

Dean smiled, obviously remembering. "I'm down with that." 

And Sam, well, he was down with anything that put a smile on his brother's face. "Me, too," he said. 

John opened his mouth, but before he could respond, his stomach growled. Loudly. 

Sam couldn't help but chuckle at the semi-sheepish expression on his father's face. At least it wasn't him this time. 

"When's the last time you ate?" Dean asked. 

It was obvious that John couldn't remember. "Come on," Dean said as he sat up, planting his bare feet on the floor. "Let’s go eat Sam’s leftovers" 

Sam noticed that Dean was a lot steadier as he followed his father and brother downstairs to the kitchen.

They ate out of the Tupperware, passing the various containers around, sharing the grilled chicken, veggies and macaroni salad that Liv had sent home with his brother earlier. Dean didn't eat much himself, just picked a little here and there but he did manage to eat a slice of blueberry pie and drink some milk that he produced as well. 

"I can't believe I'm saying it," Sam said as they each had their fill, "but I think I actually missed this." It had been such a long time since they'd all been together. 

John looked truly surprised, but a pleased smile tugged at his lips. "Wasn't all bad was it, Sammy?"

"No." Asked in another tone, it may have rankled. But for once, Sam could only agree. It hadn't all been bad.

"Of course, the food was never this good," Sam said around a mouthful of pie. Too many times they staggered back to whatever temporary home they'd rented in the darkest hours of the morning, if not bruised and bleeding, then covered in the guts and goo of whatever supernatural creature they'd sent back to the underworld. More often than not, it was stale pizza and Doritos, or cold Chinese that made up their late night fare. 

"Hey, you remember that time..."

It was inevitable that things turned nostalgic. While Sam did his best not to define memories based on a particular hunt, he soon discovered that for his brother (and father) it was simply how they catalogued most of theirs. Sam's reminder of the month they spent in Santa Cruz earned him a blank stare from Dean, until John subtly mentioned the water sprite that originally drew them there. 

Dean listened for the most part, watching them quietly, content to be at the fringe of the discussion. Sam was careful to include him in the conversation and made frequent eye contact. He noticed John did the same. Dean laughed and smiled in all the right places, but every so often, his eyes lowered and a small crease appeared between his brows.

John and Sam shared a concerned glance and mutually tabled the walk down memory lane. Sam had hoped the discussion would spark more memories, not leave his brother looking lost and vulnerable again. Dean rubbed a hand over his face, trying unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn. 

"Why don't you get some more sleep," Sam suggested. 

Dean was already shaking his head before he finished. "Nah, might as well stay up. I’ve gotta get ready for work in a couple of hours anyway." 

John and Sam shared another glance. 

"Its 4:30 Dean." His father stood, encouraging Dean to do the same. "Get a couple more hours of rest." While he phrased it as a suggestion, John's tone of voice was more that's an order as he steered Dean toward the sofa.

Reticent, but too exhausted to argue, Dean sat down heavily. John's hand on his shoulder guided him the rest of the way, until he was lying on his back. Sam leaned in casually, resting his arms on the back of the chair at the end of the sofa by Dean's feet. John seated himself on the edge of the coffee table, next to his brother. Dean blinked slowly, his gaze travelling back and forth between them as he tried to stay awake. 

"Sleep," John ordered. He ran his hand through Dean's sun-kissed spikes before gently sliding his hand down over Dean's eyes. "We'll be here when you wake up." Dean was out in less than a minute. 

John removed his hand and just watched Dean sleep before finally looking over at Sam who found himself bristling before his father even opened his mouth. 

"He's overwhelmed," John said. As if Sam didn't know that. 

His glare must have conveyed that thought. 

"Look," John said, surprisingly reasonable. "Just don't push him. Whatever happens, you've got to let it be on his terms."

Sam counted to ten. Tried to translate his glare of death to _what is wrong with you?_

"Do you honestly think I would push him into anything?" Sam asked. It was meant to be rhetorical.

John just looked at him meaningfully. _Yes._

The glare returned full force. 

"It's what you do, Sam. You push. You always have. Especially where Dean is concerned.

Sam straightened from his slouch over the chair, rounding it. 

"And you'd know about that wouldn't you, Dad?" Sam asked heatedly. "Where do you of all people..." 

Dean shifted restlessly, the beginning of a pout threatening sleep-smooth features. 

Sam and John glared at each other accusingly. Sam let it drop. Though it was nothing new, the last thing Dean needed was for his father and brother to be at odds with each other. 

"I'm going to make some coffee," Sam said with a little less heat, turning away from his father. 

Around six-thirty, Sam was just beginning to doze in the recliner when Dean's cell went off. It startled Dean from his slumber, but he was immediately reaching for the phone in his pocket. Sam recognized Liv's ringtone. 

"Hello," Dean's voice was fuzzy with sleep, the heel of his free hand coming to rest on his temple. 

John hovered in the entryway to the kitchen, a cup of fresh coffee in his hands. 

"Better," Dean responded to Liv. "No, no, I'll be there. Really, everything's fine..." 

Dean listened quietly to Liv, his voice soft and quiet as he responded to her concern. "I know. Yeah..." He trailed off, obviously uncomfortable with what she was saying. 

Sam got up and made his way to the kitchen, giving his brother the illusion of privacy. John got the hint and followed him, though they could still hear the one sided conversation. Whatever Liv was saying, she made a point of keeping it short and sweet because the tone of Dean's voice changed and they both knew he was talking to Isabella.

"I missed you too, Darlin’,'" he said. Sam could hear the genuine smile in his voice as he talked to his daughter. "Yes, much better." A pause. "I know. Yes. Mmm, hmmm. Okay." A slight warning crept into his voice, "Izzy B." Silence, followed by a sigh. Sam wasn't sure what that was all about, but wasn't too worried by it when a surprised but tired laugh escaped his brother, then, ”I love you too." Another pause, "Yes, Spooky too." 

Sam saw John's smile stretch around the rim of his mug as he took a sip of his coffee. 

"I'll see you at Miss Chloe's on my way to work, okay?" Dean assured Isabella, and then added with a chuckle, "Not if I see you first." 

"Hey," Dean was obviously talking to Liv again. "Yeah. Okay. Thanks. See you soon." 

Dean was sitting up when Sam and John entered, feet on the floor, elbows on his knees, cradling his head. 

"You sure you're up for going in today?" Sam asked

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little tired." Dean admitted. "Besides, I've got to finish reworking the transmission in the Chevelle. Jorem's picking her up tomorrow for a show next weekend." 

"You, ah, think you might need a hand with that?" John asked, a little tentatively. 

Both Dean and Sam gaped at him. Sam in shock, Dean with this wide-eyed look of complete devotion. "Yeah," he swallowed, "that'd be great." 

Then reality set in and Dean frowned, looking uncertain. 

John seemed to understand and get it before Sam did. He crouched down next to Dean. "It's okay. You're friends with Sam. Sam works for you. Sam's dad just happened to show up in town unannounced...and Sam's dad just happens to know a thing or two about cars," John said with a grin. 

Dean cautiously returned it.

"It doesn't have to be anything more than that until you're ready. This is your gig. Sam and I will take our cues from you."

Dean relaxed a little at the reassurance.

Sam and John went back to the hotel to shower and change for work, leaving Dean to do the same. With time to spare, they headed to Smitty’s diner for some breakfast, passing the Impala parked at Miss Chloe’s on the way. 

Dean was waiting for them when they arrived at the garage. He looked tired, but the early morning nap and hot shower had done him a world of good. He was refreshed and noticeably pleased at John's presence. Not that Sam felt old hat or anything, but he'd been working with Dean for a few months now. He could tell that having Dad there was a novelty that Dean was fully prepared to enjoy.

Rand opened one of the large bay doors and joined them. He eyed John, curious but friendly, as he approached. Sam figured Dean had given him a heads up that they'd have some additional help today. John, for his part, was downright cordial, shaking off his often aloof nature and chatting with Rand like he actually cared what the man thought of him. Dean watched the exchange with a small smile. That, in and of itself, was enough for Sam to stop staring and just go with it. It was going to be an interesting day. 

"Dean, honey, are you..." Liv came out of the bay, stopping dead in her tracks. Everyone just sort of froze for a millisecond. 

"Ah," Sam started, figuring introductions were a good place to start. "Hey, Liv." 

Dean had moved around Rand and took a place next to Liv, canting his head ever so slightly so she could give him his customary morning peck on the cheek. It was so automatic that he didn't even think the two of them were aware of it at all anymore. 

"This is John," Dean introduced quietly, adding, "Winchester. Sam's father. He's offered to help us out for a few days while he's in town." 

Liv's quick, assessing gaze scanned John from head to toe, before cutting briefly to Sam. Smiling, she held out her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you," Liv said genuinely. 

"I assure you," John said as he took Liv's hand and brought it to his lips, his voice a deep rumbling purr, “The pleasure is all mine." 

Liv blinked, speechless, a pale blush blossoming on her face. 

_Oh, my God,_ Sam thought. His dad was not flirting with Liv. Sam met Dean's surprised and equally mortified gaze. 

"I hear you've been taking good care of my boy here," John continued, holding Liv's gaze with quiet, but heartfelt sincerity, "I can't thank you enough for that." 

And suddenly it made sense. John wasn't flirting. He was showing gratitude the only way he could. 

Liv cleared her throat and took her hand back, flustered. Sam and Rand almost laughed out loud when Dean did a double take, eyes widening in disbelief at her reaction.

"Sam's become a member of the family, Mr. Winchester," Liv said, recovering nicely. "It was no hardship, I assure you." 

"Please, call me John." 

Okay, this was getting way too freaky. 

"Liv?" Dean said, moving closer to her, almost protectively. "Can I talk to you for a sec?"

Rand followed them back into the garage, turning to Sam as he did so. "Whenever, you're ready..." 

"Yeah, be right there." 

Sam just looked at John. He knew his father could be charming when he had to be. It just didn't happen very often. And to see such a genuine display? 

"What?" John asked defensive. 

"Nothin'," Sam said, because really, what could he say?

Whatever Dean said to Liv, she seemed perfectly fine with the extra hand as she disappeared up the stairs to the office. John and Dean spent most of the day with their heads together, rebuilding the transmission for Jorem's Chevelle. 

Every so often, Sam would feel Dean's gaze. He'd look up, catch his eye and they'd share a smile. It took longer than it probably should have, but eventually Sam noticed that Rand was keeping a close eye on his brother as well, his gaze alternating between curious and concerned. It wasn't until Sam considered the situation from an outside point of view that he began to pay closer attention. 

Dean and John didn't give the impression they'd met just a few hours ago. While their interaction was purposely low key, they were entirely too comfortable in each other's spaces, conveyed too much in the looks that passed between them. Sam made a point of keeping Rand busy and distracted for the remainder of the day, but there wasn't much he could do about Liv. Several times, he spied her watching his brother from the upstairs office window. 

Dean ordered pizza for lunch and they ate upstairs with Liv where it was cooler. Conversation was deliberately work-related and filled with light, cordial banter. Liv joined in the discussion often, and while Sam got the impression that his father was mildly impressed with her general knowledge of auto mechanics, Sam clearly recognized the look in her eyes as she subtly watched them interact. It was only a matter of time before she started asking questions.

By the time 5:00 pm rolled around, the lack of sleep the night before was tugging at all of the Winchesters. John and Sam kept Rand company as he waited for Tess to pick him up while Liv took the opportunity to pull Dean aside, her hand on the side of his face as she talked privately to him. She was worried about him, that much was obvious. Sam could tell that it weighed heavily on Dean that he couldn't yet reassure her. Not until he knew exactly what spin, if any, he was going to put on the whole situation. 

Eventually, Liv went on her way with a wave in their direction, just as Tess arrived. 

"Everything okay?" Sam asked once they were alone. 

"Yeah," Dean answered, then added reluctantly, "she wants me to see a neurologist." 

John nodded thoughtfully. "That’s probably not a bad idea, kiddo." 

Dean didn't disagree, but he certainly didn't look happy about it either. As a matter of fact, he looked dead on his feet, despite the fact that out of the three of them, he'd gotten the most sleep last night.

"Go home, son," John ordered when Dean seemed reluctant to leave. "Get some rest. You're exhausted. Sam and I will be fine. We're not going anywhere, I promise." 

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "We'll meet you right back here tomorrow, dude. Get a good night's sleep." 

Sam suspected Dean felt bad about not being able to offer them a bed at his place, but they all knew that it would be too confusing and disruptive for Isabella. Not to mention what it would say to Liv. 

Much to Sam's surprise, John stayed in town for the entire week. There were a few clandestine calls and a heated exchange with someone whom Sam assumed was Caleb, but other than that, his father seemed content to stick around. He knew that it wouldn't last, but it was more than he'd hoped for. 

Dean had them over for dinner after work a couple of different nights and they'd stayed long into the evening after Isabella had been tucked in. Sam knew his brother well enough to know that he felt a little guilty about excluding Liv, but he was also fairly certain that Dean was already working out the details of what he was going to reveal to her. 

Sam discovered pretty quickly that John's charm didn't just work on Liv. Apparently, it extended to Isabella as well. He was actually a little envious at how quickly the two of them hit it off. Isabella didn't so much as bat an eyelash at the 'sweetheart' that John bestowed upon her every chance he got. Less than two days and the man was completely wrapped around her finger. 

One evening John offered to tuck Isabella in and Sam with his brother listened downstairs on the monitor as he read Isabella her bedtime story. She'd had her heart set on The Very Hungry Caterpillar but John swayed her to The Poky Little Puppy with one simple sentence.

_“This was your daddy's favorite story when he was your age..."_

The small smirk teasing the corners of his mouth disappeared as Sam caught a glance of the troubled expression that Dean wasn’t quite quick enough to hide. He didn’t remember.

"Hey," Sam said, drawing Dean's gaze. _Its okay._

Dean smiled sadly and turned the game back on.

**-wWw-**

John cut out of work early on Friday, bidding farewell to Rand and promising Liv he would be in attendance for dinner on Sunday. Unbeknown to Liv, Dean had arranged for John to pick Isabella up early from daycare so they could spend the afternoon together. In fact, Dean had surprised them both by adding Sam’s and John's names to the list of people who were allowed to pick Isabella up from Miss Chloe's. It wasn't exactly a secret, but they kept it low key. If Liv got wind of it, there would definitely be some explaining to do.

It was quite possible that Dean questioned the wisdom of that decision when dinnertime rolled around. Sam was tossing together a salad to go with the chicken his brother had just grilled when John casually informed them that he and Isabella had already eaten. At McDonald’s. Sam arched a brow, lips pursed as he turned away from the expression on Dean's face.

Sam had once, a few months back, offered to treat father and daughter to lunch only to have Dean politely but adamantly refuse the invitation. For all that the golden arches had been a staple for them growing up, Dean refused to defile Isabella's palate with such food. As far as Sam knew, Isabella had never experienced a Happy Meal. Until today.

Dean had frozen at the comment, jaw tight. John was completely oblivious to any wrongdoing as he helped himself to a beer and disappeared into the living room with Isabella. Sam watched the brief struggle play out on his brother's face. There was nothing he could do about it now and it was the one and possibly the only time John would spend the afternoon with his granddaughter. He let it go but for the very justified glare in his father's direction later that evening when Isabella's bedtime was marred by a tummy ache.

**-wWw-**

Saturday brought a family day that would forever bring forth warm memories and laughter. With a cooler full of food and an Impala full of Winchesters, they headed east for the hour long drive it would take to reach the ocean. Liv had been invited but was already committed to a church event for the day so there was no need for anyone to watch what they said. Isabella was smart as a whip for her age, but she was just too young to really pick up on or understand the subtext of what was happening between the adults. The relief Sam felt almost made him feel guilty. He knew how important Liv was to Dean.

The beach was crowded with sunbathers and surfers as they entered the public access area. Yet for those willing to walk the distance, there were more secluded spots along the mile and a half stretch of beach. They trudged through the sand with Isabella perched high on Sam's shoulders. Dean seemed to have a specific destination in mind. Sam followed him, trying not to picture his brother here in another time...with someone else.

As they set up the sun umbrella that Dean swore was to protect Isabella's fair skin, Sam realized why Dean had chosen this particular spot. While the tide was still relatively high, it was beginning to recede, revealing a small sandbar not too far from shore. Eventually it would leave a small pool of shallow water for Isabella to safely play in.

They spent the day collecting sea shells, building sand castles, and racing in and out of the surf. It turned out that wave-hopping was Isabella's absolute favorite thing to do. She could do it for hours. Literally. They all took turns distracting her with other things, but she always came back to the waves – and of course, it was more fun with company. By lunchtime, she wasn't the only one who was tuckered out.

They ate in the shade of the umbrella, Dean relaxing back against the cooler, Isabella in his lap as she finished her sandwich. He covered her with more sunscreen, but didn't seem all that surprised when she just leaned back against him, tired. It was a quiet, tranquil moment with the warmth of the sun around them, the sound of the waves rhythmic and peaceful. Isabella eventually gave into the lure of sleep and turned in Dean's arms, sprawling across his chest.

Dean supported her weight with his left arm, resting one hand on her back, thumb gently stroking the skin between her shoulder blades. Eventually, Sam and John realized that Dean was someplace else, his eyes distant and lost as he gazed over Isabella's shoulder. They shared a glance, but let him be.

When he did come back to them, Dean's sharp gaze cut to John, a subtle fragility lurking beneath the surface. Sam automatically leaned closer, offering support. John shifted at the scrutiny but held his son's gaze. Waiting.

"You set this up, didn't you?" Dean's voice was quietly intense, low in deference to Isabella. "This life...me..." Dean swallowed, "Jenna. You set it all in motion."

John sighed. Sam could tell he hadn’t wanted to go there.

"Let's get something straight," he said. Sam tensed at the words, despite the gentle tone in which they were delivered. "You. Jenna. What you had between you. That love. That was real."

Dean's eyes watered.

"That is what set this in motion," John said, then with no hint of apology, added, “all I did was make it a reality." 

Dean didn't seem to know how to respond to the sentiment or the tone.

"Jenna offered you the home I always wanted for you. She was smart, beautiful, and feisty enough not to put up with any of your crap,” John said with a dimpled grin and a heartfelt attempt to lighten the mood.

Dean smiled through watery eyes, voice thick with tears and surprise. "You liked her." It was obvious how much that meant to him.

"Yeah," John agreed quietly, holding his son's gaze, "I did."

Dean sniffed surreptitiously, looking away, unconsciously pulling Isabella closer. When John glanced his way, Sam did his best to look supportive and show how much he approved of how his father was handling the situation.

"I can't help but wonder,” Dean said a few minutes later, “if she had known..." _about the hunting,_ "if that would have changed...how she felt."

Sam could tell that it hurt his brother just to think about it.

"She knew," John said, clarifying when Dean's eyes flew to his. "Not specifically, but she knew. She'd catalogued every scar on your body before you came out of the coma, talked with me enough to get some sense of our lifestyle." John paused, "She thought you deserved more." Another pause, this one longer, John making sure he had Dean's attention. "So did I."

Dean gave a small nod, more to himself, having gotten whatever information or confirmation he'd been looking for from his father. 

"Dean," John continued, "It was never about not wanting you with me...you know that...right?" _Please, God, tell me you know that._ And Sam saw it, that look on his father's face, the look that made him wonder how he could've ever questioned this man's love for him or his brother.

Eyes still bright, Dean nodded, but it was a little uncertain, his expression a little too serious. Like just maybe there'd been a part of him that entertained the notion, if only briefly, and could now let it go. His smile was wobbly but genuine.

"It doesn't matter," Dean said, “I mean, yeah, it does, but..." He glanced at John gratefully, his hand going to the back of Isabella's head as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Whatever your reasons...I can't thank you enough."

Sam thought John actually looked a little stunned at that. Dean didn't seem to notice. He held Isabella close to him like the treasure she was, the line of his jaw resting atop golden tresses that danced in the ocean breeze.

**-wWw-**

Sunday morning, John shocked them all when he showed up just in time for the morning worship service. Defensive, he glared at the look of surprise he saw on his son’s faces. Ignoring them, he sat next to Liv and Isabella.

Later that evening, Sam helped Liv in the kitchen while Dean and John watched the game in the other room. Spooky was intermittently underfoot as Isabella paraded back and forth between rooms, keeping tabs on everyone. Sam had expected an interrogation of sorts once they were alone, but Liv surprised him. He’d noticed that, while she continued to watch them and sensed that something was amiss, she’d backed off a little. Sam could only surmise that she was trusting Dean to come to her when he was ready. Sam started to let his guard down in her presence again.

During dinner John informed them that he'd be returning to work and had to head out later that evening. Dean was the only one who didn't look surprised, and Sam was glad for that. John must have told him privately. Everyone looked disappointed, and Sam was surprised to find that he was too. For the first time in a very long time, they'd felt like an honest to God normal family.

Liv plied them all with leftovers as they left. While Sam and Dean were both good about returning their containers each week, it seemed Liv had an endless supply of Tupperware. She told John not to worry about returning his and kissed him on the cheek as he left.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, John," she said sincerely as they parted. "You're welcome to join us anytime you're near enough for a visit." 

"Thanks." John's smile was genuine and grateful, "I'll do my best to take you up on that."

“I’ll keep my eye on this one for you,” Liv said with a playful glance at Sam, her words slightly territorial as if reminding John that Sam was his and Dean was hers, “keep him out of trouble.”

John's smile deepened as he glanced at his boys. "Good luck with that."

Sam and Dean looked at each other, brows raised, as Liv and John shared a chuckle at their expense. Sam followed his father out the door, pausing for peck from Liv. "See you tomorrow, Sam."

"'Night," he said, looking back at his brother and Isabella as he left.

When they got back to the motel, Sam helped John pack his things and carry everything out to the truck. 

"Where you headed?" he asked.

John eyed him as he climbed into the truck, resting his arm on the open window. "Tucson."

"You got a line on something?" The last thing he wanted to do was talk about hunting, but it seemed it was one of the only things he had in common with his father these days.

"As a matter of fact..." John left it hanging, sighed in exasperation when Sam continued to look at him expectantly. "You can't have it both ways, Sam. If you’re not gonna help me out, you're better off not knowing. You've got a life here, you and your brother. Just...be happy. Enjoy it."

The sincere words touched him and put the beginnings of a lump formed in his throat. "I will," Sam said. "Be safe, dad." 

John gave him a rueful smile. "That's always the plan."

Yeah, and Sam knew how those plans usually turned out. "Try harder," he said, softening the words with a crooked smile.

John reached out, placed a hand on the side of Sam's face, touch unexpectedly gentle. "I'm proud of you, son."  
Sam looked at him, surprised.

"You've always known what you wanted and you went after it." John continued. "Hell, it got us your brother back. Guess I can't bitch about what a stubborn ass you are with a pay off like that."

_Whoa, kettle. Have you met pot?_

"Keep in touch," Sam said.

Sam had the good grace to be sheepish at the look John gave him at that.

"Take care of them, Sam," John said as he began backing out the truck.

He planned to. Dean. Isabella. Liv. They were his family, his responsibility. He'd do whatever he had to, to protect them. "Yes, sir." 

Sam watched John's truck disappear, knowing that part of the reason John was so affable upon his departure was because he assumed that whatever non-brotherly feelings existed between his sons was now a non-issue. It was obvious that Dean didn't remember everything. They'd yet to sit down and really discuss it, but there were definitely gaps in his brother's memory. John was apparently comfortable in this being one of them. 

Indeed, Sam had not seen one shred of evidence to the contrary. Not once had Dean given him any indication that he loved Sam in any other way than that of a brother. Sam couldn't deny his disappointment, but he'd meant what he said. It was enough just to have Dean back in his life - in any capacity. He'd come to terms with the rest. He had to.

Once he was sure Isabella would be in bed, Sam made his way to Dean's house. It was just after 9:00 and all the lights were out save for Isabella's little pink nightlight. The crescent moon gave just enough light for Sam to make out Dean's silhouette on the roof.

"Hey," he said, looking up at his brother. Dean sat with his legs bent, forearms resting on his knees, beer in one hand. 

"Grab a beer," he said, "come on up." 

Sam grabbed a couple and climbed out the window, joining Dean on the eave. He couldn't help but think back to when he'd first arrived in town and had sat in his car on the street, longing to be with his brother.

"Dad stop by?" he asked.

"Yeah," Dean said.

Sam hesitated, "You okay?" 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dean purse his lips, thinking about the question before he took another swig of his beer.

"It's weird, you know,” Dean said. "Being left behind. I thought it would bother me more than it did."  
Sam did too.

"I mean the hunt part." Dean clarified. "I hated to see dad leave, but I just...I don't feel that itch to move on like I used to."

One of the first things Sam had noted in his brother as they got to know each other again was that Dean was basically still Dean. Much of his personality had remained the same, albeit toned down a bit, despite the memory loss. Yet he was content in a way that Sam had never witnessed before, had never really thought possible. Gone was the restlessness and recklessness that had always simmered just beneath the surface.

"Anyway," Dean said, breaking Sam out of his thoughts, but not looking at him. "What about you? Where you headed?"

Sam looked at him in shock, absently noting how guarded his brother was. "What do you mean?"

"It's not working out for you," Dean reminded him of his words that day at the park. "Time to move on. Ring any bells?" 

Sam hadn't forgotten, but so much had changed, the reason behind his decision was no longer an issue.

"Dean," Sam geared up to explain that the only reason he was going to leave was that he was causing Dean pain and that he couldn't continue to do that. Whatever the reasoning, it just didn't matter anymore. He didn't want to waste time on explanations. Just wanted his brother to know where he stood now. "I'm not going anywhere."

At Sam's firm but gentle promise, Dean finally met his gaze, searching. Whatever he saw put him at ease. Dean relaxed back against the roof and Sam went with him, their legs bent at the knees as they gazed up at the star splashed sky.

Sam couldn't help but think of Jenna. Could hear in his head the haunting lullaby that would always remind him of her.

_I see the moon,_

_the moon sees me._

_Down through the leaves_

_of the old oak tree._

_Please let the light that shines on me_

_Shine on the ones I love..._

Sam knew that Jenna would forever hold a special place in Dean's heart. It had taken some time, but Sam realized he was okay with that. His brother had a big heart. There was room enough for both of them. 

And besides, Isabella owned it all lock, stock and barrel. There was no disputing that.

"Why're you here, Sam?" Dean asked. The question seemed almost flippant. The distinctly vague way in which it was asked alerting Sam to the importance of both the question and his response. 

_Because you're my brother. Because I love you. Because I can't imagine my life without you. Because, really, where else would I be?_

Sam tried to encompass it all in one simple statement, let every bit of the love he felt infuse the words. "Because there's no place else I'd rather be."

Everything Sam had done since turning up in Dean's life had been geared towards showing his brother exactly how much he loved him. Dean would either see it for what it was or, Sam dared hope, see it for what it could be. 

Dean didn't say anything. Not for a long time. The words lingered between them. Sam took a deep breath, clinging to the tiny spark of hope he refused to let go. Told himself it was okay either way. He had his brother back. That's what mattered. And he believed it. He did. He just...

Sam was so distracted by his internal pep talk that it caught him completely off guard when Dean's hand slipped into his. The unusual display of affection rendered him speechless. He turned to look at his brother who resolutely and steadfastly ignored him. Cautiously, Sam turned his hand and laced their fingers together giving an experimental squeeze. If he hadn't been looking at Dean when he did it he'd have missed the subtle twitch of his brother’s lips. Realization belatedly dawned. _That sonova…_

A huge, goofy grin spread slowly across Sam’s face as he continued to gaze at his stone-faced brother.

"You friggin' jerk," his voice low but undeniably affectionate.

Sam slowly turned his gaze back to the stars, but couldn't manage to tone down the grin. It had a life of its own.

"Shaaaadup," Dean drawled self-consciously. _And...wait for it..._ “Bitch."

If possible, Sam's smile grew wider. 

Yeah, everything was going to be just fine.


	12. Epilogue

Sam woke slowly, stretching the tiniest bit, wrapping his arms more fully around the body spooned in front of him. He could tell by Dean's breathing that his brother was already awake. Sam begrudgingly opened one eye and glanced at the clock. They had twenty minutes before the alarm would go off. He kissed the back of Dean's neck and rested his chin in the hollow of a lightly freckled shoulder. 

"Dean," he started in his most supportive voice.

"I'm losing her, Sam," his brother interrupted forlornly. 

In loving exasperation, Sam closed his eyes and nuzzled closer. "It's kindergarten, Dean. She'll be fine." _You? I'm not so sure about._

The nearer her first day of school drew, the more excited Isabella had become. In what Sam hoped to God was not a preview of her teen years, Isabella had insisted upon color coordinating her school supplies with her new school attire. Everything HAD to be pink. Pink, as it turned out, was Isabella's signature color. Or 'sigature' as she pronounced it. 

Sam was pretty sure they could thank Liv for that particular declaration, but seeing as how he'd have to explain the only reason he knew that for certain was to own up to more than one late night viewing of Steel Magnolias on Lifetime, Sam decided Dean didn't need to be made aware of its origins. 

Dean sighed as Isabella's sweet voice ever so faintly floated down the hall as she carried on a conversation with Spooky. She'd woken early today as well, excited about her first day of school, no doubt. When Dean turned his face into the pillow Sam tentatively asked, "Aren't you supposed to be making someone pink pancakes for breakfast?" 

Another sigh, this one resigned. 

Sam just held him. The first day of kindergarten was a milestone for every child...and every parent. While Isabella could barely contain her excitement, Dean was doing his best to just hold it together. It was as if before he knew it Isabella would be graduating, going off to college, getting married, having a child of her own. It all just seemed to be happening too fast...and while it wasn't, not really, to Dean this particular milestone marked the beginning of a journey that _he_ wasn't ready for. 

It wasn't too long before they heard the patter of excited footfalls that preceded the burst of sunshine that was Isabella. "Wake up, Daddy!"

Isabella was already dressed in the pink and chocolate plaid outfit they'd laid out for her the night before. In her hand she held two pink ribbons that Sam assumed were for her as yet untamed hair. 

"There's my girl," Dean said, propping himself up on one elbow. He made a show of looking surprised at Isabella's attire. "Where are you going all dressed up?" 

Isabella giggled, knew she was being teased. Proudly she said, "I'm going to school, 'cause I'm a big girl now." 

"No," Dean was playfully dismissive. "Where is she?" he asked, making a show of looking around and behind Isabella. 

Confused, she too turned a searching gaze around behind her. "Who?" 

"My little girl," Dean clarified. "Where'd she go?"

Isabella stood straight, looking a little perplexed. Then she walked the few steps to the bed and put her hands on either side of her father's face, pink ribbons peeking between her fingers. "I'm right here." 

Dean smiled softly at the innocent and earnest reminder, a sweet contradiction that reassured him that no matter how 'big' Isabella got, she would always be his little girl. Dean relaxed a little, melting into his brother's embrace before leaning forward to place a kiss on the tip of her nose. "There you are." 

They shared a momentary glance filled with all the love and adoration each held for the other, before Isabella's smile-filled gaze slid happily to Sam. 

"Morning, Sunshine," he greeted, Isabella leaning forward so he could kiss her forehead over Dean's shoulder. 

She held up her pink ribbons hopefully. 

"Me?" he asked, pretty sure he knew what she wanted. 

Isabella nodded. On any given day she was perfectly fine with Dean combing out her golden tangles and pulling her hair back or pinning it up. But this wasn't any old day. It was a special day. While Dean was good with tried and true, Sam had proven himself willing to experiment. 

"French twist or French braid?" he asked, ignoring Dean's snort. Hey, when in Rome...

"Braid," she said decisively. 

"Okay, then," Dean said, getting out of bed, sleep pants riding low as he pulled on a clingy gray t-shirt. "I'll leave you girls to it." He purposefully ignored the look on Sam's face as he left the room. 

By the time Sam and Isabella made it downstairs, pink satin ribbon threaded through the most awesome French braid ever, Dean was pouring his first batch of pale pink pancakes onto the griddle. While they set he added a couple more drops of red food coloring to the batter before putting it back in the cupboard. Isabella no longer had a booster seat, but sometimes her climb up onto the stool at the island was a little less than stable. She wanted to do it herself, like so many other things these days. Today, Sam counted on her excitement overriding his assistance as he scooped her up under her arms and planted her in the seat. She gave him a sideways glance that hinted her displeasure, but let it go at that. 

As Sam turned to make himself a cup of coffee, Dean pressed a warm mug into his hands and a feather-light kiss to his lips, holding his gaze just long enough to let Sam know his support had been appreciated. When he would have turned back to his pancakes, Sam's hand at the small of Dean's back held him close as he dipped his head for a deeper kiss. He loved that Dean had to tilt up to meet him and that he could wrap his much larger frame around his brother at any time. He loved it even more when Dean let him. 

He let Dean go, watched as his brother hurriedly flipped the cakes so they wouldn't scorch. Sam got Isabella a drink of juice and joined her at the island to await breakfast. He took a sip of his coffee, smiling at the sweet combination of sugar and creamer that Dean had perfected just for him. 

"You talk to Liv?" He asked.

”Yeah," Dean responded, slicing up some fresh strawberries with which to top Isabella's pancakes. "She's on her way." 

Normally Isabella would be getting on the bus at Miss Chloe's but they all wanted to be there to see her off on her first day off school so Dean had made arrangements with the school. 

With a flourish, Dean presented Isabella with two pale pink pancakes topped with fresh strawberries and a small dollop of whipped cream. She was suitably tickled and beamed her pleasure up at him. Isabella had a way of showing her gratitude in small ways that often left Sam wondering if she had some idea that much of what Dean did for her he would never do for anyone else. Like Dean would ever be caught dead making pink anything for any other person in the universe. Or braving the girls’ clothing section at JCPenny, when he easily could have left the school shopping to Liv, just because his little girl was, _"Cute as hell and should look the part."_

Of course Sam had learned a long time ago that Dean would do just about anything for the people he loved. It pleased him to see in Isabella an innate appreciation for that trait in her father. It was something Sam was pretty sure he took for granted at that age. 

"Eat up, Sasquatch," Dean said, earning a giggle from Isabella, as he set a stack of steaming pinkness in front of Sam. 

Sam opted for maple syrup instead of the strawberries and whip cream. Light, fluffy and tasting faintly of vanilla, his breakfast was pure heaven. While blueberry remained his favorite, Dean had come up with a new pistachio creation that offered some serious competition. Sam had been skeptical when he saw the mint green batter, but his first taste test had put him at ease. In a moment of creative inspiration Dean had added a packet of instant pudding to the batter. He only hoped that his brother would avoid experimenting with the butterscotch and lemon pudding Sam knew was also hiding in the back of the cupboard. 

Sam heard a car door slam minutes before Liv made her entrance through the breezeway. "Good morning, everyone," she said in a decidedly chipper manner. 

"Gramma!" Isabella nearly slid from the stool in her haste to get down. Sam managed to grab one of her arms and slow her descent. Dean cocked an eyebrow in her direction but she had eyes for Liv only at that point. "It's my first day of school!" 

"I know!" Liv matched Isabella's excitement, picking her up off her feet for a big hug and then putting her down to look over her outfit. "Look at you, my pretty girl." 

Isabella struck a pose to showcase her new ensemble, thrilled to have another female present to fully appreciate it. Liv was appropriately taken, considering she'd seen every outfit via the modeling show Isabella had put on last week. 

"And your hair," Liv said tipping Isabella's chin for a better look. "It's lovely, Sam." 

Despite the fact that he was absolutely _not_ embarrassed, Sam still managed to flush under the praise - 'course that may have had more to do with Dean's smirk in his direction. 

"Morning, Hon," Liv said with an undertone of gentleness as she kissed Dean on the cheek. She shared a look of understanding with Sam, aware that Dean was struggling with this particular milestone. 

"Hungry?" Dean asked. 

Liv made her way to the island to bless Sam with a peck before answering. "Starving." 

Sam gave his seat up to Liv so she could eat with Isabella, who had climbed back up into her seat to finish her breakfast. He put his dish in the sink, leaning back against the counter with his coffee to watch his family. 

Once he and Dean had decided, okay, yes, they were gonna do this, they'd taken things very slowly since that night on the roof two years ago. For the first year Sam had given up his motel room in favor of a small apartment and his rental in favor of more permanent and spacious transportation when he was offered a full time position at the University. It had been a necessary transition under the guise of making things easier and less complicated for Isabella, which Sam was all for, but he also suspected that slow was exactly what Dean had needed as well. It had been less than a year since he’d moved in with them fully. 

 

Surprisingly it was Liv, not Isabella, who was Dean's biggest concern. Isabella had proven him right by adjusting to all of the changes with relative ease compared to the rest of them. In the end they'd decided to be as truthful as possible with Liv, with obvious exceptions. Explaining that Dean had regained his memory was the easy part. Explaining that he and Sam had a relationship prior to his accident and the exact nature of that relationship, well, that was another matter entirely.

Sam had fessed up to tracking Dean down and insinuating himself into his life. That in itself implied closeness beyond that of just 'friends.' They'd left out any mention of being brothers and their hunting lifestyle, because really, there was only so much they could expect Liv (or anyone else) to understand. They were lifelong friends on the verge of something more intimate when fate had intervened and torn them apart. 

It was as truthful as they could be, but also a tricky spot for Dean to be in with his mother-in-law. He didn't want it to appear as if his relationship with Jenna had been anything less than what it was, didn't want her to think that Jenna had in any way been a substitution for someone else - even subconsciously. What he and Jenna shared together had been real. Dean was so concerned about Liv's reaction that he'd nearly made himself physically sick over the whole thing. While no one would ever replace or compare to Mary, Dean loved and valued Liv as the maternal figure he'd longed for since her death. She was real to him in a way that Mary no longer was. He'd been so afraid that her love for him was conditional. 

It wasn't. 

Liv hadn't been nearly as surprised as Sam had expected, which pretty much confirmed his suspicions that she'd had some idea about his feelings for Dean. When it came down to it, Sam secretly believed that Liv was more than a little relieved that she would never have to worry about another woman taking Jenna's place in any way - with Isabella or Dean. That's not to say there wasn't an adjustment period of sorts for all of them. While times were more liberal, they lived in a relatively small town. Once the nature of their relationship became known, they'd all dealt with some expected fallout. Dean lost some of his regular customers, but they’d been replaced with ones who appreciated the quality of his work and didn't give a fig about the rest. Every once and while they had to deal with some ugly comments, but so long as they didn't touch Isabella, those were easy to ignore. 

Perhaps the most troubling aspect they'd had to face was finding another church. It had hurt Dean, more so for Liv's sake, to be informed that he and Sam would not be welcome, together, in the church in which he and Jenna had been married, the church that Liv had attended for years and in which she was was so active. Liv was a force to be reckoned with in that she adamantly refused to allow Dean to feel any guilt about her departure from Holy Grace. In no way would she stay in a church where her loved ones were not welcome. Instead, she made it a mission to find them a new place of worship where they could attend as a family. And so she had. 

"Mmph, Dean, honey, these are delicious," Liv praised. "Is that cinnamon I taste?" 

Dean's ears pinked a little at the acknowledgment, barely noticeable as he rinsed out the batter bowl and wiped down the griddle. "Added a pinch to the last batch," he said. _Just for you._

Sam watched as Dean retrieved Isabella's lunch box from the fridge and put it in her backpack. They'd attended an Open House last week to meet Isabella's teacher and check out her classroom. In the midst of the impressive amount of paperwork they came home with, including emergency contact information and immunization record requests, was a hot lunch menu for the first month of school. Suffice to say, Dean's idea of nutritional food for his daughter clashed with that of the school system. “Too much processed food.” he’d said, and noted that Isabella would be bringing her own lunch, thank you very much. 

"Hey," Sam abandoned his spot at the sink. "I'm gonna head back upstairs and get dressed." 

"Yeah," Dean looked down at himself, realizing he was still in his pjs. "Me, too." 

They went upstairs together. It was quiet. Sam sensed that some of Dean's melancholy had returned. There wasn't really anything to say that hadn't already been said. It was something his brother would just have to work through. Dean opted to keep the gray t-shirt, sliding on a pair of boxer briefs and then his favorite faded denim. He looked at his watch. 

"C'mere," Sam said, holding his hand out. 

Looking both grateful and exasperated by the understanding, Dean took the proffered hand and let Sam pull him in for an embrace, resting his forehead on his brother’s shoulder. It was about more than just Isabella's first day of school, Sam knew that. While Isabella saw the day as an adventure, Dean saw it as the first day of a journey that would eventually take her from him. It wasn't the same by any means, but Dean had already suffered enough loss in the last few years. Jenna. And more recently...John. 

When Caleb had shown up nearly a year ago with a report that John was missing, Sam knew if he didn't do something about it that the older hunter would eventually go to Dean. So he had gone with Caleb under the guise of finishing up some old business at Stanford. There was no way in hell he was going to jeopardize his brother's safety - and he knew Dean well enough to know that while he would've been conflicted about leaving Isabella - his brother was a man of action. He would've done something. 

It was his father after all. 

So Sam had lied, figuring it would be easier to ask for forgiveness later. Of course, he'd had no idea how terribly wrong things would go, either. The whole horrible mess had culminated in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, his father possessed by the same yellow-eyed demon that had killed his mother - with Sam holding the gun that could kill them both. The demon took great pleasure in using his father to get to him, confident that Sam wouldn't shoot, taunting him in great detail with the disgust he'd always feared John held in regard to his feelings for Dean. Caleb had tried to intercede, pinned helplessly to the opposite wall, but the distraction had only escalated the confrontation.

_"I don't know, maybe I'm missing out here, boys,”_ Demon John had said calculatingly, looking back and forth between them before holding Sam's gaze. _"That brother of yours is a prime piece of meat... got you boys all hot and bothered, doesn't he?"_

Caleb’s eyes widened at the implication, very much surprised that John had even been aware of the brief flirtation he had shared with Dean. Sam gripped the gun tighter, a sinking feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach as John leered suggestively.

_"What do you say, Sammy? Think I should tap that, see what all the fuss is about?"_

He’d had enough. Sam took aim and fired, hitting his father in the leg. He watched as John collapsed, unconscious and unmoving. Freed from his spot pinned against the wall, Caleb joined him, both of them eyeing John warily. When nothing happened Sam lowered the gun and took a step forward. He pulled back quickly taking aim once again when his father woke with a startled gasp. 

 

_“Sammy!"_ John's eyes were a wild mix of pain and terror. _"It's still inside of me, I can feel it!"_ He focused on Sam, desperate determination overriding everything else. _"You shoot me, Son. Shoot me in the heart."_

Despite his uncertainty, Sam's grip on the Colt was steady. 

_"You can end this now, Sammy."_ Straining against the presence struggling for control inside of him, John softened his voice but was unable to deny the urgent need for action. _"It's okay, son. Do it. It's okay."_

Sam shifted, torn. His voice cracked. _"Dad.”_

John let his head fall back against the floor, exhausted, frustrated. Sam knew they were running out of time. 

_"This demon wants you, Sam. It will use Dean and Isabella to get to you."_

Sam's finger twitched on the trigger, even as the comment confused him. What could the yellow eyed demon possibly want with him? 

_"They will suffer, Sam. Don't let that happen. End this. Now. I'm ready."_ John had a measure of peace in his eyes, even as he strained to hold onto the demon for as long as possible. __"I'm ready, son.”

John held his gaze, pleading. Sam could feel the trigger starting to give, a breath of pressure and it would all be over. Still, this was his father, he hesitated. 

John's gaze slid to Caleb. _"Now! I can't..._

Sam heard the shot before he registered the feel of Caleb's hand wrapped around his, watched as his father convulsed, a static glow of energy lighting the wound from within and spreading outward, dissipating with the life force of its vessel. 

Sam shivered at the memory, even as he held Dean tighter. Dean immediately lifted his forehead from Sam's shoulder, looking up at him. "You okay?" 

"Yeah," he said, one hand smoothly trailing up Dean's spine to wrap around the back of his neck. "Just...yeah," Sam ducked his head, tongue sweeping into his brother's mouth in gentle exploration, hand sliding upward to cup the back of Dean's head - offering and receiving comfort. 

Dean had been devastated by John's death. Sam had seen firsthand how badly he'd wanted to withdraw from everything. It was Isabella who forced him to remain in the land of the living. It was hard to pull away from life, after all, when you had a little bundle of sunshine who depended on you for _everything._ Still, it had been a precarious balance for a few months, Dean only allowing himself to falter when he was alone with Sam. Liv had assumed the reason Dean took John's death so hard was because it had been as unexpected and sudden as Jenna's and had brought back all those memories. They would never be able to tell her otherwise. 

"Dean, honey," Liv called from downstairs, "the bus will be here soon." 

With a heavy sigh, Dean pulled away. Sam followed him downstairs where Isabella was just donning her backpack, all but vibrating in her excitement. It was a bit contagious, as evidenced by Liv, and Sam couldn't help but let himself get caught up in it a little bit for Isabella's sake as well. Standing in the breezeway with a view of the street, they heard the bus before they saw it. Isabella gave them all a quick hug, saving Dean for last and holding on the longest. Sam may have imagined it, but he thought he saw a flicker of anxiety in her eyes. 

Liv followed her outside with the camera as the bus pulled to a stop at the end of the driveway. Dean leaned against the door jamb, arms crossed, watching her with a small smile despite himself. Sam stood behind him, chin resting on his brother's shoulder arms clasped around his waist, as Isabella marched with purpose towards the bus. About halfway there Sam felt Dean tense as her steps slowed. When she froze completely, Dean was already moving, making his way to her as Sam joined an emotional Liv on the lawn. 

Dean held a hand up to the bus driver, asking him to hold for a minute. The man looked understanding enough but glanced at his watch. He had a schedule to keep. Dean nodded before settling to his haunches in front of Isabella, everything about him softening as he just looked at her. 

"You know that feeling you have, right here," he said as he gently poked her belly, "those butterflies? You know what? Everybody else has them, too." 

Off to the side, Sam watched as Isabella raised her chin, but didn't deny her fear. A look of such tenderness crossed Dean's face that it nearly stole Sam's breath away. 

"But you know what?" Dean asked. "You're gonna be just fine. You know why?"

Isabella responded by tipping her head slightly. 

"'Cause you're my big girl," he said, voice rough and proud. "It's okay to be scared, darlin', but you can't let that stop you. You’re gonna be just fine,” he repeated. “And tonight you’re gonna tell me about all the fun stuff you did and the new friends you made. You don’t want to miss out on that do you?” 

It was a small movement, but Isabella shook her head. 

Sam was pretty sure he saw Liv wipe away a tear out of the corner of his eye as Dean stood and held out his hand. "Ready?"

Isabella took a deep breath and looked up at her father as she trustingly placed her small hand in his. It was another of those frozen snapshots Sam would forever treasure. Dean walked her to the waiting bus, released her as she boarded, and followed her along the outside until she found the seat she wanted. She still looked nervous, but Dean had helped her find her courage. 

Sam and Liv joined Dean as the bus pulled away, relieved to see a small smile grace Isabella's features as they waved to her. It wasn't until the bus rounded the corner and disappeared from sight that Dean completely deflated, folding forward with his hands on his thighs. 

"Oh, my God," he said in a dramatic but serious fashion, “I’m never gonna make it." 

"Oh, honey," Liv laughed, "you did just fine. Trust me."

"I'll take your word for it," he said, more than a little emotionally drained.

"You do that," Liv said as she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him, using her thumb to wipe away a trace of lipstick. Dean stood passively and allowed it. Sam smiled. Dean would never admit it, but he loved to be mothered. 

"I'm off to meet Clint for coffee at Smitty's," Liv informed them. 

Liv had adapted well to retirement. She'd opened a small greenhouse that she worked part time and found great pleasure in, and she'd devoted herself actively to their new church...where she'd met Clint Roderick. Their relationship had progressed slowly from friends to something a little more that Sam thought they were still defining. Being the alpha male of the family, Dean had been resistant and more than a little protective at first. It helped matters significantly that Clint recognized it for what it was and afforded Dean the respect he deserved as the head of their family. This, of course, scored points with Liv, who, with God's grace, would never find out about the background check Dean had run on the man. 

"I told Rand you boys would be in later," Liv said with a smile at Sam as she passed him on the way to her car. His classes at the university weren’t scheduled to start until next week, so he’d been a pretty regular fixture around the garage. Which really wasn’t anything new. 

Dean looked a little confused at that before clarifying, "We won’t be too long..."

"Yes," Liv interrupted firmly, "you will."

Sam remained quiet. He had a general idea where this was headed and he was very much okay with it. 

"There are certain _activities,_ " Liv continued, "that couples with small children don't always get to engage in at this time of day...if you know what I mean."

Dean was beginning to get what she was driving at, if the blush spreading across his face was anything to go by. 

"It's a special day for Isabella," she said. "Make it a special day for you, too.” Then coyly added, “some of the best sex of my marriage was on Jenna's first day of kindergarten." 

Dean's mouth opened a little at that. Sam didn't think he'd ever heard the s-e-x word out of Liv's mouth before, unless it was related to gender - and maybe not even then. 

"I'll see you at dinner tonight," she said with a wink, climbing into her SUV. She'd planned vegetable lasagna in honor of Isabella's first day of school and they had orders to be at her place at six sharp. 

They watched her go, standing silently side by side, not quite touching. Dean glanced at him with a curious mixture of seduction and bashfulness. _We really gonna do this?_ And it did, just a little, feel like they were being naughty and playing hookie when they were both supposed to be at work. 

Sam shrugged, meeting his brother's gaze. _Hell, yeah!_

He registered the glimmer of intent in Dean's eyes just before his brother took off running. Putting his long limbs to use, Sam passed him easily as they pushed and elbowed each other as they headed for the door. Sam was a foot from the threshold when Dean plowed into him from behind, sent him careening into the siding, and slipped past him into the house. Sam heard him laughing as he raced up the stairs. 

He would never tire of that sound. 

Sam took his time, stopping along the way to pick up the trail of clothes his brother had discarded. 

He knew exactly what awaited him. And it was all he'd ever wanted.

 

_The End._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're still here - Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed it at all I would love to know. Thank you :)


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